Trouble in Paradise
by victwi
Summary: "We're going to see each other in new situations and new places...and you're going to find out how trustworthy I am." A new Red John case unearths a secret from Jane's past and shatters the little trust he has with Lisbon so he decides to try and win it back with "The Five Days of Jisbon." As Red John draws ever closer, can he do it before his time runs out?
1. Tears of Red

**Hey there, new writer here so bare with me if I'm not that good. Just write a review telling me what I need to improve and I'll try my best to work on it (: I've had this idea for nearly a fortnight now and I just had to try and write it all down. Starting it off was the hardest part because I have the middle and ending almost word perfect so this beginning was difficult to write. I'll see what you readers think before I continue writing so I hope you like it! **

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Tears of Red

_Resting his head on top of the steering wheel he cut the engine and closed his eyes, listening to the gentle lull of the trees rustling in the wind around his car. He began his repetitive exercise which __he did whenever he felt stressed, breathing in through his nose, inhaling as much as his lungs could take, and then releasing, making sure he exhaled with long intervals. He was hoping that the headache he could feel creeping up on him would simply go away and the same went for rest of his troubles._

_He was still shaking from the TV interview he done live only a few hours ago. At the time, all the things he had said seemed to be the what the viewers needed to hear, the right things for the listeners and the hosts to know, but now he couldn't help thinking he had made a terrible mistake. Talking about Red John always made him feel nervous and on live television he found the words had just tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. He decided to blame this on rage and the hate he felt towards Red John because he had__ meant every word._

"_An ugly tormented little man…" The voice in his head seemed to echo around the inside of the car. Had he really said on live TV? About a serial killer who thought it was funny to draw a smiley face on the wall in his victim' blood after he'd killed them. He shuddered at the images which flashed in front of his eyes, remembering the photos he had been asked to study time and time again with people praying he would find something in them, something out of place that would give them a trail to follow. But he had learned, almost from the moment the police had asked for his help, that Red John was too careful and too clever to make mistakes._

"_Inhale, exhale; inhale, exhale, just continue the routine" he whispered out loud, clenching his eyes even tighter together until he saw bright white lines and black dots. A gentle throbbing was beginning to pulse in the back of his head and he decided he would stay here until he stopped shaking before going inside. Seeing the face of his little girl as she slept would make this all go away and even if it was for only a couple of minutes, it was more than enough._

_He sat up slowly, leaning his head back onto the head rest for support and took the keys out of the ignition. Reaching for his bag, he couldn't help feeling like there was someone watching him but he quickly pushed this feeling away. He didn't need to worry about anything like that. Only family and special friends knew where he lived and they had lived out here in the middle of nowhere overlooking the sea for nearly six years. They had never been burgled, trespassed or had any sort of trouble so why now? Why worry about it now? _

_He got out of the car and pinched the bridge of his nose because standing up too quickly had caused him to stagger a little before gaining his footing again. He sighed heavily and began walking towards the house, making sure he stepped quietly over the gravel so as not to wake his little girl. The door was already open, left on the latch like always, and he picked up the mail addressed to him in the porch. Just a brief glimpse at the first two letters was enough to send his heart beating twice as fast in nervous panic. _

_They were from 'her'._

_He put them on the side along with his keys. He could deal with those tomorrow after he'd had some sleep and felt up to reading them. Closing the door, he made his way across the living, making sure he moved the little pink bicycle out of the way so nobody else would trip over it in the morning, and finally reached the stairs. Each step he took seemed to lift the weight off his shoulders as he thought about seeing his wife and being able to recount how he felt about today' interview with her. If it's one thing he had come to learn over the passed few years, it was that his wife was the one person he could talk to about anything. Almost anything…_

_He noticed a piece of paper had been tacked onto the front of their bedroom door and he couldn't hold back a smile. It was a regular thing his daughter would do, leave him a little note explaining what she had done in the day, hoping she would see him in the morning. It broke his heart knowing his job stopped him from seeing enough of her. _

_As the distance between the door and him grew less and less he realised the note was not hand written but printed out from a computer. He felt his heart sink. His wife must have gone to bed leaving him a note reminding him that his tea was in the fridge and she would talk to him in the morning. He needed somebody to talk to right now but he appreciated her leaving a note and he knew how tired she had been lately because of her own job._

"_**Dear mister Jane," **__he read the first three words and immediately knew there was something wrong. The notes which were usually left to him were always addressed to 'Daddy' or 'Jane' yet this was formally addressed to him and the incorrect capitalization and spelling of 'Mr' was wrong. His wife would never let herself or their daughter make that mistake. Something was wrong and the smile on his face fell rapidly as he read the rest of the note. _

"_**I do not like to be slandered in the media, especially by a dirty money grubbing fraud."**__ Money grubbing, surely the person meant money grabbing? He thought for a moment about whose money he could have taken unwillingly but couldn't recall any. 'Slandered in the media'? He closed his eyes tightly and opened them again, hoping he had misread the words. His wife must have come downstairs and had a drink of wine before typing this up, maybe as an odd sort of joke, because the only person he could think of speaking to the media about was Red John._

_Red John._

"_**If you were a real psychic," **No...__being a psychic was his job; he earned his money rightfully and used it to help pay for his family' needs! He had been born with a gift so why not use it? Oh god. No. He wanted to scream, to hit, to smash the pictures on the walls, to wrench open the door to which the note was stuck to but he was afraid. Afraid that what was happening right now was real._

"_**instead of a dishonest little worm..." **__The shaking which had begun in his legs suddenly stopped as he froze on the spot. There was no way he could know about that. Surely he must be referring to what he had said about him on the television show, he couldn't possibly know about 'her'. Not even his wife knew so how on earth could he? Maybe is was 'her' who had left this as some sort of cruel joke, pretending to be the one person he feared most in the world, but he knew it was not her. This was him. Only he would be so crooked as to delve into somebody' life and find out all their secrets. _

"…_**you wouldn't need to open the door to find out what I've done to your lovely wife and child" **__A bead of sweat trickled down his back and he could feel the colour drain from his face. This wasn't happening, this was not real. He'd merely fallen asleep in his car outside with his head on the steering wheel and he would wake up in a matter of seconds…He was having trouble breathing, the hallway felt like it was spinning twice as fast, leaving just him and the door suspended in time, a piece of wood blocking the way to an image he could not possibly imagine._

_And then everything suddenly seemed to move in slow motion, his hand reaching out to the door, the beads of sweat trickling down his face; his dry mouth swallowing to gain more moisture so he could breathe properly. After what seemed like an eternity his hand finally reached the cold metal. He twisted the handle and pushed, a sinister squeak echoing all around the room as it swung inwards._

_The red smiley face was the first thing he saw. Shining in the light which had been purposefully placed underneath, it burned down on him like the sun, imprinting its twisted red smirk into his mind so it would never be forgotten, a punishment he knew Red John had wanted him to face. It was an exact replica to the one in the photos, all of them slightly different in size yet still the motif to each murder he committed, an inside joke which nobody else was in on. A face which wept tears of joy in its victims own blood…_

_Pulling his gaze away from the dripping red face, he surveyed the rest of the darkened room noticing there was an obvious sign of a struggle by the bedside table. The picture frames were all on the floor; broken glass scattered around like snow along with earrings and smashed bracelets from the jewellery box lying on its side. The mirror had been caught in the scuffle as well; the moon shone in from the window sending its light dancing off the smashed pieces in different directions, illuminating the room where the lamp could not. _

_The largest piece was covered in the blood slowly seeping out of the cuts in his wife and little girl, both of whom he couldn't look away from. He couldn't see his daughter' body because his wife had been placed almost top of her, almost as if she had tried to protect her from what she knew was going to happen. The roses he had given her only yesterday had fallen around her along with the vase which was lying still intact at the bottom of the bed, its water mixing with the blood stained floor surrounding his daughter's head…_

_The sticks which his legs had turned to suddenly snapped and he buckled onto his knees, not even registering the pain or the sound he made. A dull ringing in his ears was becoming louder and louder the more he took in the scene. His whole body shook uncontrollably as if there was an earthquake rumbling through the ground, coursing through his body, making his whole world shake. Mustering all the energy he had left he crawled over to the telephone, phoned the police and then hung up before the woman on the other end could ask any more questions. Looking back now he was surprised the phone hadn't been smashed or the wire hadn't snapped in the struggle but it was nothing to be thankful for. _

_He collapsed in the corner, resting his elbows on knees and his head fell into his hands. Finally he let the pain come, embracing his body and squeezing him tight. Tears broke free from his eyes, falling to the floor and his sobs echoed loudly around the entire room, breaking the silence and making his throat burn. Lifting his head he cried out to the ceiling, shouted up to the heavens, questioning why they let this happen to the people he loved most, why hadn't they stopped it? He shouted until he couldn't breathe, until he felt his lungs might collapse in on themselves, before slumping onto his side and curling into a foetal position, tears still streaming down his face. _

_He hadn't been there for them when they needed him. He hadn't been here to stop Red John, to protect them from this happening. He had opened his mouth on live television, spoken his mind and not listened to the words of warning the police had given to him when he left the station. It was his entire fault. While he had been driving back in his car, stopping every now and then to let people cross in front of him, wasting precious time, Red John had been inside his house and now the two people he loved most in the world were both dead...and he needed to punish himself._

_From where he was lying he could see his wife's face, her hair strewn wildly everywhere, stuck to her face with her own dried blood. The deep cut in her neck was still wet and he watched a trickle of scarlet seep from the wound and fall onto the floor. His eyes blurred with tears as he reached over and ran his hand over a piece of her hair, still soft as silk at his touch. He twisted it round his finger a couple of times before letting it drop back onto the floor, the tip of it slowly turning red._

_Curling his hand back into his chest he felt his palm glide over a shard of the mirror. It flashed in the lamplight as he picked it up, slowly raising himself until he was sitting against the wall facing the bed. He hadn't realised how hot it was in this room until he pressed his back into the wall, its cool touch instantly sending a ripple through the hairs on the back of his neck. The shard from the mirror was cold in his hands but it felt good. He turned it over and gazed at the man who he saw staring back at him – blood shot eyes, untidy hair; pale sweaty skin. If a stranger were to walk in this room right now they wouldn't recognize him. They might even think that he was the mad man who had done this._

_Holding the mirror piece flat in his hand he knew what he had to do with it, knew what had to be done next. He looked out of the window into the inky black sky where the moon was shining, almost mocking him with its beauty. It was a full moon that night and even though Red John had left the lamp on, from his corner, the moon's light washed into the room with a pale beam. Turning back to his wife and child he saw how, apart from the blood, they looked as if they had both fallen asleep on the floor, their eyes closed and arms wrapped around each other in a tight embrace. Another tear fell as he imagined them both dying without any pain but knowing that Red John would not have shown any mercy, more tears leaked down his cheeks. _

_One fell onto the shard in his hand and he knew he had to pay for what he had let happen. Just thinking about walking away from this unharmed was not an option and knew the pain he was about to feel was nothing compared to what they had been through. Slowly, he carefully held the sharp piece flat in his palm, took one look at the face drawn in his wife's blood on the wall… and closed his fingers._

_A dribble of blood trickled down his wrist; the pain rushed up his arm and he felt his eyes roll back in his head. Yes, he was finally getting what he deserved. He needed more, he needed to come closer to the pain he hadn't been able to prevent so he crushed his fingers tighter over the mirror shard, hearing it snap in two. The blood was falling faster now, cascading all down his wrist like a waterfall of wine but he didn't care, it wasn't enough. _

_He realised he was holding his breath and let it out heavily. This was no good. He needed more. Summoning up all the energy he had left, he squeezed his hand as tight as he could until he felt his own nails slicing into his palm. The sound of the mirror splintering into tiny pieces was satisfying to hear, the pain in his hand was so sore it was becoming numb. His whole body shook as he unclenched his hand and gazed down at the mess which he had deliberately made to his now mangled hand. _

_The room rushed around and around, his eyes growing heavier from the pain as it began to take hold of him. The smell of blood snaked into his nostrils and it didn't take long for his head to find the floor. If he lay here very still he could feel the earth moving. He could tune into space and time itself, undo everything which had happened today, turn back time. He could undo it all… _

_Before the darkness took him, two thoughts ran through his mind. One was that he would never ever stop looking for Red John until he had slit the sick bastard's own throat. The second was something he noticed when he turned his head to the side. Each one of Red John's victims was exactly the same. Cause of death, smiley face positioned to be noticed first, slashed wrists and neck… but there was something different here. The difference being his wife's feet. _

_When he had kissed his her goodbye that morning, she had been getting out of the shower and he had accidentally dropped his keys onto the floor. Bending down to pick them up he distinctly remembered her having clear toenails, yet now he noticed they were messily painted red. To his horror, he saw that they had not been painted in a hurry with red nail varnish by his wife. _

_They had been painted by Red John's own hand…in his wife's own blood._

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**Author's Note: **Please tell me what you thought, I'd love to hear anything you have to say (good or bad!)  
Thank you for reading (: victwi x


	2. Scarlet Companion

_Scarlet Companion_

"Food is there to eat, Van Pelt!"

Little flecks of bread flew from Rigsby's mouth as he took another bite out of his sandwich to prove his point. Grace looked at him in disgust, watching a dollop of mayonnaise fall onto his tie without him noticing. She was having a hard time keeping her face straight so she turned away and replied to him facing her computer.

"Yes, food is there to eat Wayne…"

Unlike him she never used surnames when having casual conversations unless, of course, it was with Jane.

"…but you do realise that the food isn't going anywhere? You don't have to eat all of it because it'll vanish or someone will come along and take it," and to prove her point, she snapped the lid of her lunchbox shut, still containing four carrot sticks and a yoghurt, and slid it into her bag with a smile. Lisbon and Cho exchanged a look. Communicating to each other without words wasn't hard when they were both thinking the same thing right now.

This was a conversation which happened almost everyday. Rigsby would bring in hoards of food, making as much noise as he could when he brought it so Van Pelt would notice him, and then they would bicker over how unhealthy it was, how expensive it was; how fast he ate it, the list was endless and the conversations would be as well if they didn't get called out for work. Cho and Lisbon, on the other hand, knew the real meaning behind the talk of sandwiches and health.

It wasn't hard to see Rigsby' face flush whenever he walked into the same room as Van Pelt or seeing his eyes gleam with happiness whenever she laughed at something he'd said. The same went for Van Pelt. Whenever she saw him struggling with a new lead on a case, the look of pain on her face was always obvious and the arguments she started with him always turned into sly flirting. Lisbon smiled to herself as she looked away from Cho, knowing that he too had noticed all the little things going on between them. Even though they weren't dating anymore, they were still very much in love.

Lisbon was pretending to look through the papers from their last case, one of their quickest to finish, but she was actually keeping an eye on the man lying on the leather sofa. Patrick Jane had been gazing into space throughout this whole conversation which was unusual because he almost always sat up and joined in the bickering between Van Pelt and Rigsby, chipping in with a different argument or opinion whenever he thought someone had the upper hand.

From where she was sitting she could just make out the top of his head and the tip of his shoes and, to anyone else sitting in her position, he looked as if he was sleeping. But she was not anyone else and she knew Jane was not sleeping because, when slept, he folded his arms and tilted his head to the side yet she could see that his hands were clasped across his chest and he was gazing up at the ceiling, his thumbs gently bouncing together. He was thinking.

"Jane, can you back me up here please?" Rigsby' voice pleaded over to the man lying on the sofa, meaning that today is was Van Pelt who had the upper hand.

"I'm surprised you haven't said anything yet seeing as you were the one who started the whole 'brown bread is better' thing…Jane?"

Cho and Van Pelt looked over at the sofa, their faces baring the same confused expression. Jane not getting involved in an argument was like a thirsty man seeing water and not taking a drink…strange.

"Jane…?" Van Pelt's voice was barely audible but Lisbon still heard it from where she was sitting in the corner.

"Jane, are you with us?" She shot a questioning glance over at Rigsby who shrugged and shook his head; he was just as confused as she was. Cho, as usual, showed no sign of knowing nor caring what was going on and continued to stare at the phone on his desk, waiting for it to ring and bring him something to do. No more than three seconds past after Lisbon had thought this when the red light flashed and the phone began to ring making them all, including herself, jump in their seats. All but Cho who she saw sneakily sigh with relief before picking it up.

"Kimball Cho…" He was silent for a moment before turning to his desk and scribbling something down on a piece of paper in front of him. The person on the phone seemed to be talking very fast because Cho's hand was flying across the paper like there was no tomorrow.

"Okay we'll be right there…I'll tell her", he put the phone carefully back in its place and sat very still for a moment, eyes glazed over, staring down at the little essay he had just written.

"Cho? Is everything okay?" Her voice brought Cho out of his trance and he stood up to put his jacket on, still not making eye contact.

"Here," he handed the piece of paper over to Lisbon and sat back down with his jacket on, resuming his troubled gaze into the distance. Van Pelt and Rigsby shot wide eyed glances at each other, both utterly perplexed by the sudden mood change in the room. First Jane not wanting to join in their argument and now Cho was acting odd after a mysterious phone call. What was going on? Lisbon glanced down at the note and her eyes focused on two words in Cho's messy handwriting which she always dreaded seeing.

…_Red John._

He had claimed another victim, another one of his "wives", and they were going to have to go and see the result. She closed her eyes and sighed quietly, thinking about how difficult it was going to be dealing with Jane when he found out. Not only was he emotionally difficult to deal with whenever the case involved Red John, he was a lot more difficult to talk to when she needed help. He was always thinking about his family, how he could finally get his revenge on Red John, and he thought of nothing else but that. Lisbon couldn't say she understood how he felt but having brothers of her own, who she loved dearly, she knew that if Red John had drawn his face in any of their rooms, she would be out for revenge just like Jane was so she couldn't understand why he didn't open up to her more.

"Right let's go then," she shouldn't be thinking about the troubles she would have to face in the future, she was their boss and their leader so she had to stay in control. Not letting them see any signs of worry in her voice she spoke out to them all, making eye contact as she addressed them.

"Rigsby, Cho, I want you to drive to the house and talk to the family, see if she seemed different or met anyone new in the past year. Van Pelt stay here and I'll…I'll go to the scene."

Immediately they all sprang to life, Cho darted for the door, glad to have something to do, and Rigsby grabbed his jacket to follow him. Lisbon showed Van Pelt the note and she began typing names and locations, fingers flying over the keyboard, her gaze never leaving the screen.

Lisbon stood rooted to the spot beside Van Pelt, watching her type and wondering what to do now. Should she wake Jane and take him to the scene of the crime? Or should she leave him here, get answers to her questions, evaluate the scene then come back and wake him? She sighed again knowing the answer already. Turning around she saw he was looking at her as if he already knew what was going on and what she was about to ask.

"You coming?"

She didn't look at him as she crossed over to the table and picked up her keys but he didn't say anything, just picked up his coat and walked over to stand next to her, a small smile on his face.

"Did you really have to ask?"

The journey there was nothing but silence only it didn't bother Lisbon because she had enough on her mind to think about. She was gearing herself up for a very long day. Arguing with Jane, clearing up after the people he upset and running around trying to do everything else to solve the case as fast as she could. She was worrying so much about Jane she didn't even realise her car was turning into the victim's driveway…until she nearly collided with a statue of a cherub. Taking the keys out of the ignition she stared straight ahead, knowing Jane wasn't going to listen to anything she had to say when the two words came out.

"Jane, the victim…the victim is…"

She'd left Cho's piece of paper back at the office on her desk but she knew the officer introducing her to the scene would re-cap on everything so she changed tack quickly.

"…a white female, late thirties, she has daughter but the girl seems to have gone missing."

_Deep breath Lisbon_

Her brain felt as if it was slowly melting, each thought merging together, unable to pick one from another.

_Just say it!_

Cupping her hand around the door handle, she looked over at him, making sure she held his gaze as he watched and waited for her to finish.

"It's Red John."

He nodded slowly, "I thought it was. Why didn't you just tell me back at the office?"

They both got out of the car and Lisbon had to practically run to keep up with him. It had begun…

"Oh please, you know exactly why. You're already starting to do it right now!"

She was thinking out loud and Jane seemed to realise this because he stopped halfway across the lawn and turned to face her.

"I'm sorry I'm so predictable Lisbon but Red John cases are personal to me, you know that."

His grey eyes burned with pain and Lisbon had to look away over the tree tops to stop herself getting lost in them.

"I understand Jane, I do, it's just sometimes you really are…difficult to control when its cases like these."

She buried her hands deep into her pockets and looked at the towering house in front of them, anywhere but at the man whose eyes she felt could look deep into her soul. He turned away and looked at the grass beneath him, scuffing it slightly with his feet.

"I'm sorry," and with one last piercing stare he turned and began walking up the pearl white staircase, leaving Lisbon with no choice but to breathe in deeply and follow him.

The inside of the house was all too familiar. A police officer led her into a grand foyer with a high ceiling and two staircases leading up the sides of the wall, meeting in the middle. A golden chandelier filled the room with light and Lisbon saw two doors on either side of the room leading off further into the house and another door at the very top of the stairs which continued through to the second floor. Most cases she worked on occurred in houses like these, a lot more than she realised. The police officer who had taken her through to the foyer turned to address her and Lisbon noticed he was shaking badly; his face a ghostly white. Yet another thing she had seen before.

"First case by any chance?"

She hoped her voice sounded more sympathetic than humorous, the poor man looked like he was about to throw up and who could blame him. For his first case, Red John wasn't exactly someone who shed as little blood as possible.

"Yeah, firs' one," he swayed on the spot and Lisbon gently lowered him into a nearby chair.

"Head between your legs, take deep breaths. Maybe go out and get some fresh air as well? Before you do that can you tell me what we got here?"

"Sorry, of course ma'am, it's just all that blood made me feel…"

The officer's voice sounded less shaky from between his legs and, despite everything, she couldn't stop a tiny smile creeping onto her face.

"Her name is Marianne Odell, late thirties; she's in the main bedroom at the top of the stairs. Teenage daughter, Josephine, is missing but there is no sign of a struggle so she could have escaped, right?"

He turned his head up to face her, almost pleading to be given some good news. Lisbon knew better, Red John didn't show mercy to any of his victims or their family. Jane's wife and daughter were proof of that.

"You leave that to us, now go and get some fresh air"

"Yes ma'am," she helped him to his feet and watched as he staggered slowly over to the front door only to collapse at the top of the steps, resuming the head-between-the-legs position.

As she was climbing the stairs, she looked at the pictures hanging on the walls, each individual frame slightly higher than the other almost mirroring the shape of the stairs as they rose. The photos were like a timeline, each single frame showing a little baby growing up into the present day teenager. The first showed a pretty woman holding the baby high above her head, the baby's face filled with sheer joy at being lifted into the air. The woman must be Marianne Odell.

The next was of the baby, now a toddler, pushing a pram with a toy doll in and holding an orange sippy cup in one hand. The next frame a five year old blowing out candles on a cake, a ten year old with her arms wrapped around two friends, a twelve year old in a beautiful blue dress. The very last photo, as Lisbon reached the top of the stairs, was the biggest of them all and she took a step back in wonder.

The teenage girl was now as beautiful as her mother, piercing silvery eyes and a smile which could melt any frown, this girl was truly loved. Her hair fell around her face in a cascade of gold against her perfectly tanned skin but this was not what made Lisbon gape in awe. The resemblance between the girl and her mother was obvious, the slightly pointed nose made them both seem like their smile was wider and the shape of their faces was a perfect oval. The eyes, the hair and the cheeky grin were not inherited from her mother yet they were still so familiar. She took yet another step back. It was like trying to remember somebody you saw in the street every now and again; she couldn't quite put the features to the face and yet…

She gasped. This was a huge coincidence, how could she not have spotted it before when she first saw it!

"Agent Lisbon?"

She jumped at the man addressing her and nearly tumbled down the stairs.

"I'm sorry to interrupt but would you like to come through and examine the scene, it's just we really would like to take the body down, the sooner we do the slower the decomposition." The man adjusted his gloves and motioned for her to follow him.

"Of course, what can you tell me about her so far?"

The hallway was narrow so she had to walk slightly behind the man, eventually striding to keep up with him as they flew past door after door.

"It's just like the other Red John cases, throat and wrists slashed, smiley face drawn in the victims blood on the wall and her toes are painted in her own blood too. Obvious signs of a struggle as you will see in just a second," he opened a door to the left and they walked inside, "also this was written on the glass door."

He pointed to the sliding door, which opened onto a little balcony overlooking the garden, and in dripping red letters were the words "REVEALS IN TROY"

"Any idea what it means Agent Lisbon because it sure has us officers scratching our heads."

He walked over to the table, picked up his camera and began photographing the area around the body which was sprawled in the middle floor.

Marianne Odell did not look so beautiful when she was covered in blood. Her hair fell wildly around her head, covering her face entirely, but the neck was visible, revealing the horizontal line where she had been sliced open. Blood had spurted everywhere, not just onto her white nightdress but the walls, the desk and even the ceiling. Both her arms lay either side of her hips, the slashes on her wrists in plain view still dripping blood onto the already crimson carpet. Lisbon tore her eyes away from the lifeless body and quickly took in the rest of the room. Smashed glass littered the floor from the tiny drinks cabinet in the corner, the duvet from the four poster bed was on the floor and a chair which had smashed the dressing table mirror was lying on its side beside the shards.

Red John's smiley face grinned at her from the antique wall mirror hanging directly opposite; laughing at her because she couldn't catch him…She strode out of the room and walked quickly down the hallway. Wrenching open the nearest door; she slammed it shut and closed her eyes breathing in deeply. Everything about the previous room brought back memories from the past, none of which were ones she wanted to remember in a hurry. Turning slowly around to lean against the door she breathed out and opened her eyes, not knowing which room she had randomly run into.

Tears burned in her eyes and, for the second time that day, she let out a quiet gasp.

It was as if she had walked into a memory and she was her teenage self all over again, the room being almost an exact replica to her own back when she was a teenager, small and plain yet cosy and welcoming at the same time. A slightly untidy bed was crammed into the corner under the open window and a dream catcher dangled from the ceiling overhead, slowly spinning round and round in the light breeze. There was a large wooden desk with papers and pens all over the place, some had fallen onto the chair, and the bin beside it was overflowing with screwed up paper balls, probably from all the late night mistakes and ideas for essay assignments. A large purple rug was in the middle of the room, the colour of it clashing terribly with the walls and the carpet, but from where she stood she could tell that it was worn down from all the times it had been used. All the times it had been danced all over, paced up and down on, curled up in a ball and cried on. The rug had gone through all the emotions its owner had.

A tear slid down her face as she realised that apart from the wardrobe bursting with expensive clothes and the different taste in books that were crammed onto the shelves, this room was almost a mirror image of her own. A safe haven the girl could come to if anything was troubling her, needing to let it all out, to scream, shout and cry. Another tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away quickly, moving over towards the desk to look at the pictures circling the mirror. You didn't need to be psychic to work out that Josephine was a popular girl. In only three photos, out of the many she had, she was with the same group of two girls. All the others were of her dancing at a party, never holding any alcohol or smoking, or in her cheerleader outfit joking around with a bunch of the football players. In every single photo she was beaming and Lisbon found herself smiling sadly back. She really wanted to find this girl; the similarities between them were scary and if Jane were here right now…

Jane.

Where was that man? Panic flooded through her and she straightened up quickly, swearing under her breath. She hadn't seen him since he'd apologized to her out on the lawn and, looking back, she could never remember a time when he had not looked over a body with her and pointed something out, especially on a Red John victim. So where was he now? A horrible feeling was beginning to creep up the back of her neck and she shivered. Something was wrong.

Opening the door to the hallway she quickly poked her head out, looking both ways before closing the door quietly behind her. Thoughts were trickling in like she was having them poured into her head; they hammered at her brain making her head spin and she stopped to lean against the wall. This house was so big it wouldn't be hard for someone to hide in a room and Jane was well known for snooping where he wasn't supposed to. What if Red John had him cornered in a room somewhere tied to a chair, holding a knife to his throat, or worse…?

Lisbon was already speed dialling the others downstairs when she noticed the door to the room next to her was open…and someone was inside. She could see their reflection in the bedside mirror, body hunched over, head in hands almost as if they were weeping but from where she was standing she couldn't see the person's face through the crack in the door.

Until they looked up…and she knew immediately who is was.

In all the years Lisbon had known him, she had never seen Patrick Jane cry. He was always making sure everyone was happy or comforting those when they did weep, at the ready with some not so funny joke or a friendly smile…but not once had he ever cried in front of anyone. She knew it had something to do with the doctors at the clinic he was sent to, telling him to leave all his sadness and regrets behind him and move forward in life. Somehow she couldn't imagine Jane following this advice. Yes, he may have left some of his sadness behind but regrets? Never.

Lisbon leaned her head on the doorframe, watching silent tears fall down his face and debated whether he would want comforting or be embarrassed at being caught crying. Choosing their friendship over his embarrassment, she silently pushed open the door and closed it behind her. He glanced at her in the mirror to see who it was but didn't bother to hide his red eyes or running nose, he just went back to looking at the floor. Seeing more tears fall down his face, Lisbon wanted to bundle him up in her arms there and then and hug him tightly but she knew she couldn't do that. It was against her rules and she knew Jane was still in love with his wife.

She sat down on the bed next to him and they both remained silent for what seemed like hours. Tears continued to fall down Jane's face, tearing her to shreds inside but she sat silently next to him, hands folded in her lap. Suddenly he stood up and Lisbon jumped at the abrupt movement.

"Thank you for sitting with me Teresa, I'm sorry you had to see me like this," he pulled a tissue out of a box on the table and wiped his nose.

"Jane don't be sorry. Is there anything you want to ta-"

"Yes Lisbon, I feel terrible that you had to see me like this. It's just…it's just I-"

The door opened and the new officer walked into the room, relief flooding into his face.

"Agent Lisbon, some people are waiting for you downstairs. They say they need you to come back to the office with them." He looked nervously at Jane.

"You too Mr Jane, sir" and he hurried away down the corridor.

Jane rushed out of the room without another word and Lisbon followed, keeping a respected distance between them. She had known he would feel embarrassed and she felt stupid for even going in and sitting with him. Why hadn't she just left him alone and carried on walking down the corridor? This feeling put her in a bad mood and by the time she reached the bottom of the staircase, she had her famous scowl on and her strides were long.

"Alright, what have you got?"

Rigsby and Cho exchanged glances, making her even more agitated. She didn't need them giving her the information in bits, not when she was in a mood like this. She wanted it short and fast, to the point.

"Come on, what is it?"

Rigsby cleared his throat. "Umm Boss, can we talk about it back at the office?"

"Yeah, I'll take Jane" Cho cut in and was already guiding a deep in thought Jane to the car before she could protest.

"Alright Rigsby, what the hell is going on? No, don't try and tell me to get in the car. Tell me it right now, what do you know?"

She was breathing heavily, feeling anger and the humiliation from just moments ago bubbling to the surface.

"Well, Gra-…I mean Van Pelt just called. She checked the victim's phone records from last night."

Lisbon sighed. She didn't need this right now.

"Rigsby please. You could have told me this when I finished up here, why do you need to tell me back at the office?"

Rigsby was getting nervous because of the mood she was in so he had to swallow hard and shuffle through his notes before he spoke again.

"The thing is boss, what Van Pelt found involves one of us."

"What?"

That didn't make any sense; one of us could mean anything, one of us who was here now, one of us officers, anything!

"Be a bit more specific Rigsby."

"I'm trying too Boss!"

The look she gave him was enough to make his face flush bright red and his next few words came out in a jumble of stutters.

"I-I-I- sorry Boss, I- It's just…well, over the past two days, Marianne had around three 30 minute conversations with someone from our department."

Her blood ran cold. Marianne had called someone from their department? What if she had said something to them which had gotten her killed…or maybe she had known something about Red John's identity and had managed to contact someone?

"Who Rigsby, who was it?"

"Well that's the thing Boss. I don't know how she knew him…but..

"She called Jane."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you to all the people who have reviewed so far :) This is for you people!

How did Jane know her? What were the bad memories Lisbon had?

Good, bad?I love hearing what you have to say so...click the bubble and bang it in the box :D

~victwi


	3. Reaping Red Road

_Reaping Red Road_

Cho and Jane sat in silence as they began the long drive back to the office. It was nearly three in the morning and because there was no traffic on the roads, the speed Cho was driving at remained constant…and so did the silence between them.

When Cho had first seen Jane coming down the stairs he immediately noticed that something was wrong but knew better than to ask questions, especially to someone as stubborn as Jane. Instead, he told Lisbon he would drive them both back to the office and gently pushed Jane in the direction of the door. Jane willingly followed him down the stairs and across the grass and when Cho turned back he sighed because it was like watching a puppet on strings.

Jane's feet dragged across the lawn with each step he took, a muddy line forming on the tips and sides of his shoes. His arms hung limply at his sides, hands clenched up into tight fists but his head remained upright with eyes staring straight ahead. Cho opened the car door for him where he sat down, buckled up his seat belt and gazed downward at his hands resting in his lap.

Looking over, Cho saw he was still sitting in this exact same position 45 minutes later and he was getting annoyed now; he didn't like seeing Jane upset so he decided to break the silence.

"Want to talk about it?"

He didn't look at him, just kept his gaze fixed on the road, even though he could drive with his eyes shut and not hit anything, but he wanted to seem casual, as if he wasn't too bothered with a reply. Jane turned to look at him and he couldn't help but feel relieved, hoping he might get a response.

"There's just too much to tell."

The pain in his voice was enough to make Cho glance over but regretted it when he saw Jane's eyes filling with tears. He turned back to face the road. Cho wasn't good with emotions, especially when it came to other peoples, but Jane was his friend, one of the strongest people he knew, and seeing him cry made him edgy. Something was very wrong.

"We've still got an hour's drive. I'm all ears." Anything was better than driving in silence and Cho was beginning to get seriously worried about his friend.

Jane closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, breathing out in one long breath which made his shoulders sag. He rested his elbow on the door and looked out into the star filled black sky.

"I loved my wife so much Cho, she was everything to me. When I walked into that room and saw her and my little girl dead, a piece of me died with them. I would do the unthinkable just to see her smile one more time or to hear my daughter practise the piano pieces she loved so much. The arguments between us were so rare but when we did I couldn't stay angry at her for very long because it hurt me more to see her so sad. She made me the man I am now, taught me everything I know in life and reminded me never to take things for granted. She was always there when I needed her, but that day I wasn't there when she needed me…and for that reason I will never forgive myself."

Cho could have guessed this from the way Jane behaved throughout any Red John case, jumping to decisions before thinking them through, getting himself into serious trouble and sometimes inflicting pain on people who didn't deserve to be hurt. Silence returned to the car and it was a couple of minutes before Jane spoke again.

"Before I met my wife, I was a completely different person. I grew up with my father in a trailer, travelling with a fun fair and we would move from town to town every couple of weeks. I learned tricks from the people we travelled with, including my own father. They taught me all sorts of magic and card tricks and because learn things quickly, my knowledge would broaden each day. From others I learned unpleasant tricks like how to pick pocket and the art of lying to people. My father never knew I could do these things but I found myself using them more often than I should.

"When my father realised I had was good at reading people, I became the useful 'toy' to him, the boy who would help fund all his dreams. At first I thought it was a great idea. He'd talk about me being the star of the whole fair and how people would come from miles and miles away just to talk to me, to see what I had to say about them. Over the next few weeks people came into our tent to ask me questions about their future or relationships, sometimes more personal things, but in the day I would do shows in a larger tent on the stage."

"My father always said I was a natural on the stage and sadly he was right. Each day a few more seats would be taken up and before either of us could blink people, people were having to stand at the back to watch. I won't lie; I enjoyed the rush I got every time the audience laughed at one of my jokes or gasped at some of the things I told them. I remember one day a woman on the front row hadn't cracked a smile once throughout the whole show but when I spoke out to the audience about her love of gardening, a man handed her a flower out of nowhere and she smiled such a beautiful smile. The crowd never cheered louder than that day…"

His voice trailed off and for a moment Cho thought he had fallen asleep with his head against the window but when he spoke again his voice remained steady.

"One day my father said he was bringing in a special client, a woman and her child. The woman was said to be very rich, I don't remember what her job was but I know the little girl was very sick. My father bought a cheap plastic crystal and he wanted me to pretend it was a 'magic healing stone' which could cure the girl of her illness. The moment I saw the little girl sitting helplessly in her wheelchair with tubes coming out of body I knew…I knew I couldn't go along with it."

"The woman was pleading with me, begging my father for my help, so I ran outside. He followed me and I was forced to go back and lie. I told her that if she bought the stone her daughter would have a chance at surviving. She did...and I swear, I've never felt so goddamn ashamed."

"The relationship between my father and I died that night."

"I was nearly 17 and the shows were getting worse and worse because we just didn't get along. One night we had a row on stage and I stormed off, leaving a packed tent full of people who'd paid to see me perform, but I didn't care. You know what I did? I went to our trailer, packed my tiny rucksack with clothes and, making sure I took at least half of the money I'd earned, I left with no idea where I was going, I just kept walking and never looked back."

Cho hated interrupting people when they were speaking, especially since he knew Jane was just beginning his story, but if he had to he would have asked if Jane knew where his father was now. Jane never spoke about his blood family, only the family who were murdered by Red John. Where were they? Weren't they worried about their only son, for Jane had never mentioned having any brothers or sisters…?

"For five years I lived a wild, free life. To anyone I met I was the guy who had no parents, no boundaries and nobody to tell me what to do. I went out a lot and I got my fair share of whatever they call it these days. I'm not proud of it but I had to use my skills of pick pocketing until I managed to get a job and earn my own money. Twenty-one years old, a job I didn't enjoy, having to steal to get extra money and renting a small, messy apartment. The apartment I didn't mind but everything else was awful. I actually began to miss working at the fun fair and that…that made me mad."

His voice shook and Cho saw, out of the corner of his eye, that he had clenched his hands into fists and was glaring into the night.

"Then she came along Cho, Marianne came along and everything turned right side up. My life suddenly had a purpose and I began to see things in a different light. My wife taught me so many things when we were together but…but…"

He suddenly understood. The penny dropped in Cho's brain and he tapped the steering wheel with his thumbs, watching the lights on the road speeding past them in one long strip, each little bulb falling into place behind the last…just like Jane's story.

"Marianne came into the place I was working and it began from there. She showed me the world through her eyes, how different it was and how much I had been missing, wasting away in my tiny little apartment. We began dating but took it slow because she had just come out of a relationship with her previous partner. 18 months later we were still dating and she'd managed to get me a job where I could once again use my talent as my main act…just like at the fair. A couple of weeks later and I found myself doing a small slot on live television show, how I got there is for another story, but for the next few months everything was perfect."

"Of course, it didn't last long." Jane sighed heavily.

"Marianne told me she had been seeing someone else, the ratings on the TV show dropped and they had to cut my slot so they could replace it with a more popular show. Marianne and I said goodbye and went our separate ways. She went to live with the guy she was seeing and I moved to California to start over once again."

"I don't need to tell you the rest. I fell in love with my wife; we got married and had a little girl two years later. I found another slot on television only this time it was more popular. In August, the media went wild as Red John began claiming his first few victims and I was called in to help. Obviously, back then Red John hadn't committed as many crimes so we didn't have the information on him as we do now but I still had my thoughts. I just couldn't keep them to myself…"

Another powerful silence ricocheted between them, only this time Cho knew why. When Lisbon had first introduced Jane to the team not one of them had not seen the interview in which he had insulted Red John, this being the reason Jane blamed himself for his family's slaughter.

"A few weeks before that day, I got a phone call from Marianne. She'd seen me on the show and had managed to trace my number. We talked about how things were and memories from when we were together, just a conversation between two old friends. She asked if we could meet; catch up even more in person. I imagined we'd have a quick discussion over coffee and then get back to our lives."

The noise he made was a cross between a cough and a small laugh. Cho looked to his left and saw Jane's figure reflecting back at him in the window, shaking his head with a sad smile on his face.

"I walked straight past her when I arrived, she looked so different! You saw the pictures of her at the house?" He waved a hand, dismissing his need to go into a description of what she looked like.

"That was the woman I met at the café…but it was not the woman I fell in love with, she was gone, but we still talked like the adults we were. I told her I was happily married with a little girl nearly 6 years old but when I asked her how old her child was she did the strangest thing. The looked down at her hands in her lap and began to fiddle with the table cloth."

Cho could feel his eyebrow beginning to raise but immediately stopped it. He couldn't understand why Jane thought this was a strange thing, everyone fiddled with things from time to time, he usually did when he was at the office waiting for a call.

"You're probably wondering why I thought this was strange…" Jane knew him too well.

"When women fiddle with things, they are either hiding something, trying not to cry or very bored. I hadn't seen Marianne in over 11 years but she was mirroring something my wife did whenever she was upset, eyes down, biting her lip; it was easy to see something was wrong. She told me she had a daughter, a beautiful daughter, but when I questioned her on the age again she told me she was nine… and everything made sense."

"You see Cho, Marianne's daughter is my child. I've never met her before, hell! I didn't even know I had another daughter. Needless to say, the conversation went downhill from there. She told me she'd been too scared to tell me she was pregnant, hoping it would turn out to be her lover's child instead, but when over a year had past the obvious signs were there. She told me the only reason she had bothered to call me was because they were having money troubles and 'our daughter' needed help as well as her. We argued and I left without another word."

"The next couple of weeks were living hell. She sent letters to the house, left voicemail's on my mobile and she would ring every other day on the dot at 9pm. When my wife became suspicious, I told her it was an undercover officer on the Red John case who had to ring me at the precise time otherwise the police would get worried. I hated lying to her and it hurt even more when she believed me but eventually the phone calls stopped and everything seemed to go back to normal."

"The last letter I got from her was the day Red John 'visited' our house. I remember seeing it in the pile I picked up off the floor and not wanting to read it. I never did find out what was in the letter…the police must have taken it away or it just went into the bin. I never heard from her after that day, she just disappeared."

Was that it? Cho could understand why Jane was so upset but he had seen him upset before and tears had never been shed. Talking about Red John, a guilty suspect being let free, seeing Lisbon unhappy…Cho had watched from afar and all these times Jane had become angry or upset he had not once reacted like this.

"Yesterday she called me completely out of the blue. She sounded troubled and from what I could hear in the back ground, she was calling from a payphone. She didn't want her call to be traced. She asked me to meet her today in the same café where we had last met but this time it was urgent, not concerning the reason we had met the last time. Cho I think…I think she wanted to tell me something about Red John…but once again…I was too late."

Cho didn't know what to say, what could he? No words he uttered could possibly make Jane feel any better and sympathy was something Jane hated.

"How many more Cho?"

He was looking at him now, tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes.

"How many more of my friends is he going to kill before we finally catch him? I don't think I could live with myself if I lost anyone else, you or Rigsby or Van Pelt…Lisbon..." His words faded as he said that last name, tear tracks shining in the headlights of the on coming traffic. "I just couldn't go on. Why didn't he just kill me when I was tied to that chair? What does he want from me?"

He swallowed, turning back to look out of the window as if seeing the sky for the first time. Cho knew he wouldn't speak again until they got back to the office so he thought through what he was going to say and cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry Jane, I really am. Red John left a lot more clues at this scene than any of the others. Do you have any idea what 'Reveals in Troy' could mean? Think about it, maybe figuring that out will take us a step closer to catching him. We'll find Josephine too; maybe she saw something and managed to escape. Don't worry about us Jane; we'll always be here for you. You've stuck by me, so I'll do the same...I owe you."

He said these last few words looking across at the man with so many secrets, hoping he would find some comfort from them. Cho was never really good at the whole 'sympathy speech' things but right now he felt like Jane needed a friend, someone to reassure him that everything would be okay even when it felt like the world was against him.

Jane looked back at Cho and a small smile appeared on his lips.

"Thank you for listening Cho, I'd appreciate it if you kept all this between just you and I right now. And you didn't have to do that, I've never heard you give such a meaningful little speech but…that was good. I'm touched."

"Shut up." He turned back to face the road, trying to keep a straight face like he always did whenever somebody mocked him, but he found himself mirroring Jane's sad smile because he felt as if his 'sympathetic speech' had been more than just a joke to Jane, it had actually meant something. They remained silent for the rest of the journey, each lost in their own train thought.

But they both felt that the trust they already had in each other had just grown a whole lot stronger.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I will probably come back and edit this at some point but I wanted to get it out as quick as possible so I can get the next chapter up!

Thank you so much for the past reviewers as well! This took me so much research, I did a mind map and everything!

Key events from it will appear in later chapters too!

~twi


	4. Green Eyed with Crimson Heart

_Green Eyed with Crimson Heart_

Hightower casually walked into Lisbon's office and told her she could go, as long as she was in early tomorrow because she had some important news. Once her back was turned, Lisbon slumped down into her chair and gazed out of the window, watching the glowing yellow orb disappear beneath the apricot sky. She closed her eyes and rested her head in her hands, feeling all the information she had found out that day beginning to pound against her forehead…

_Her car pulled into the parking lot at around 3.45am and when the lift doors opened she bolted straight for her office, making sure she closed the door quietly behind her. Van Pelt was busy at her computer and Lisbon knew she had only a few minutes to compose herself before the red head called her to look at something. She was good at her job and Lisbon had gradually grown fond ever since she started working with them, but right now she just wanted to be alone._

_Questions were bursting in her head and she could hear them echoing in her mind as if someone was speaking them loudly through a megaphone into her ear. "Why the hell was Jane crying?" "Could it be something to do with the girl?" "Did he know the woman?" "Why didn't you comfort him more…?" Amongst them, there was always a red smiley face…They flew around her head, swarming her brain like bees in a nest so she closed her eyes and blew on her wrists to cool her temperature down._

_She wished she could just pick up the phone and dial Jane's number, she knew it backwards by heart, but something in the back of her mind stopped her. When Lisbon needed somebody, even if it __was__ just to agitate her, Jane was always there. Somebody to compare thoughts about a case with, a person who she argued with the most, a man who could make her laugh when she was upset. He was always there so why shouldn't she try and make up for all those times…?_

"_Boss?" Right on cue, Van Pelt was at the ready with her information._

"_Are you okay? I can come back a bit later if you like, want some coffee?" _

_She handed Lisbon a steaming mug and leaned back against the wall. The smell of caffeine was enough to make all the confusion go away, the rich aroma fogging over her brain, bringing her back into the small room she was sitting in._

"_No I'm fine and thank you...so much." __She clasped both hands around the mug of coffee, feeling its heat rocket up her arms. Bliss._

"_I thought you could use it, you've had a long drive back right? Another Red John case as well…"_

"_Don't remind me.. Tell me what you got, any new leads on Marianne? Did you track down her family?"_

"_We're trying to get hold of her mother; father died a couple of years ago but we're looking into the cause. Apart from that everything seems to be normal. They owned two horses which she regularly bought food and accessories for. Some new shoes every few weeks, petrol for the car and that's it really."_

_Lisbon took a sip of coffee, trying to hide her disappointment. It wasn't like she hadn't expected it; nothing about this case was any different and, compared to the others, nothing stood out as a possible 'clue'. Except the girl, __Josephine__…Lisbon had never known Red John to spare a life and he wasn't the sort of person to make mistakes. Taking people hostage wasn't one of his traits and she couldn't think of a reason why he would change his pattern now, so the only other alternative was that the girl must have escaped. They had to find this girl. _

_The question had just formed on her lips when she heard Van Pelt frown at a piece of paper she was holding. She reminded herself to ask it later._

"_Boss…I'm not sure if this is interesting or not but…it's kinda odd, I'm not sure what to make of it…It might just be a coincidence."_

_Any part of her which hadn't been woken up by the coffee was now completely alert. 'Odd' and 'not sure' being used in the same sentence by Van Pelt was not a good thing._

_"What do you mean odd?"_

"_Well," she opened the file she was holding and placed it on the desk, "I've checked all of Marianne's call records and I went through some of __Josephine's__ as well, although she didn't really use her cell phone that much for a teenager which I'm surprised about being a teenager and all…Anyway," she hurriedly began flicking through the sheets of paper, realising she was rambling. Lisbon began tapping the side of her mug, eyebrow raised. Van Pelt knew that insignificant facts made Lisbon impatient._

"_It says here that she's been making phone calls to a psychic therapist and they were pretty regular too, hang on..."_

_She reached into her pocket, pulled out a highlighter and took off the top with her teeth. Her hand flew back and forth between the two pages, covering them both with florescent yellow stripes. When she had finished, she put the lid back on the pen and held up the piece of paper for Lisbon to see. _

"_Okay so the phone calls I've highlighted are the ones made to the therapist and all the others are just calls to different people, probably to do with her job"_

_Lisbon thought for a moment before answering. "What was her job, anything really stressful?"_

"_She was running her own fashion business from home and, from the way she could spend over $600 on a saddle, I'd say she was doing pretty well."_

"_$600 for a saddle! Well, look up whoever it is and ask Cho and Rigsby to bring them in."_

"_I'm on it." Van Pelt gathered up her file and hurried through the door._

_Lisbon drained the last few drops of coffee from her mug and placed it on the table, making sure she put it on top of an old magazine because she hated leaving any trace of a stain. Growing up with a house proud mother had made sure of that. Her thoughts were now revolving around work which she favoured a lot more because it gave her something to do and, this time, they weren't about Jane._

_If Marianne Odell was doing so well in her business, why would she need a psychic therapist?_

_Her father had recently died so maybe she wanted to contact him or maybe the relationship with her daughter wasn't as strong as it used to be because of her working from home, but judging by all the photos on the walls it didn't look that way. What if this therapist was just someone Marianne knew, a close friend who she had to contact through work maybe? If it was a male, it could be someone she was having a relationship with or maybe they were just looking at a dead end. Marianne simply could have hired a therapist because she was stressed and needed somebody to talk to._

_The sooner they found this person, the better._

_Through the blinds on the door, Lisbon saw Van Pelt walking towards her office again so she assumed Cho and Rigsby had been called and were now on their way to pick up the therapist for interrogation. Finally, they were getting somewhere at last. But when Van Pelt opened the door, her face held the same confused expression._

"_Boss, I can't call Cho and Way-..Rigsby." _

'_That was a close one,' Lisbon thought but she pretended she hadn't heard._

"_Why not, she made calls to someone didn't she?"_

"_Well yes she did, but the thing is…when I put the number into my computer it came up with a house, not a building place, and it says it's under police __surveillance__."_

_She hadn't been expecting that._

"_Whose place is it, did you find out?"_

"_A woman called __Kristina Frye. Isn't that the woman who we think Red John kidnapped?"_

_Kristina Frye...but that was impossible, nobody had seen or heard from her in nearly two whole months. She was last seen by all of them in this very building not talking to anyone but Jane who had to light a candle and, she suspected, hypnotize her into taking. Even then she wasn't making any sense in what she was saying. So how could she have contacted Marianne just days ago? _

"_Oh, I remember her now. I was downstairs when she…" _

_Van Pelt gulped back words of uncertainty and Lisbon could see that she still blamed herself for Kristina's disappearance._

"_It's not your fault she disappeared. We don't know that she didn't just jump out of the window to escape. These phone calls can back that point up! We found her didn't we?"_

_Van Pelt stepped backwards and slowly sank into the long armchair, clasping her hands on top of the file in her lap. Lisbon was ready, her fingers wrapped tightly around the handle on one of the draws in her desk. It contained tissues…and it looked like she might need them._

"_I really liked her Lisbon, she was really nice." _

_Her heart sunk and she felt a wave of sympathy wash over her. Van Pelt always stuck to the book and not calling her 'Boss' was a rare thing. _

"_It is my fault she's the way she is, if I had just gone up and checked on her maybe I could have stopped her leaving or fought off her attacker, at least then I could feel like I tried. Now I just feel like I turned a blind eye to it, I just let it happen." A tear slid down her face but she quickly wiped it away._

_The last time Lisbon had seen her crying was when she had ended her relationship with Rigsby. Lisbon and Jane had walked up to the lift doors to find a red eyed and shaking Van Pelt. Her and Lisbon ended up sharing the lift together because Jane did one of his 'noble things' and left the two of them alone. Luckily, it hadn't been as awkward as she thought it would be. She'd rubbed the crying woman's shoulder, told her she was sorry it had to be this way and explained that, if it were up to her, she would change the rules in a heartbeat…meaning them more than she let on._

"_Grace," she tried to make her voice as soft as possible without sounding patronising, "listen, don't beat yourself up about it. These phone calls are enough for us to get a warrant. We'll search the house again and maybe we'll find something that wasn't there before. It's not your fault and I don't want you blaming yourself." _

_She gave her a long, hard stare and then smiled sadly. Seeing Van Pelt upset was not helping her with her own emotions so she asked her something which she hoped would lighten the mood._

"_What did you like about her? You spent a lot more time with her then me"_

_To Lisbon's relief Van Pelt raised her head, her face holding a wide grin._

"_I didn't really know her that well either but I liked all her different beliefs, like how she believed there was an afterlife which we cross over to when we die. I admired her for that. Oh, I was really glad she liked the restaurant I recommended to her and Jane too! It's one of my favourite places and when Jane asked me if I knew a nice place, I just had to s-"_

_Lisbon snapped back to reality, immediately feeling guilty for not listening, but she was all ears now. _

"_Wait…Jane took Kristina to a restaurant?" Her heart was beating twice as fast against her rib cage, hoping she had heard wrong.._

"_Yes! Didn't he tell you about it? I was so unhappy when I had to call and ask him to come back to the office. I told Jane to take her to Giorgio's because the pizza there is simply-"_

"_So he took her on a date?" Three words flashed in her mind, repeating over and over again. _

_Jane doesn't date. _

"_Well…"_

_ Jane doesn't date. Jane doesn't date. _

"_I guess it was!" Lisbon's heart sunk even further when she saw the look of sheer delight on Van Pelt's face. _

_"Who would have thought? Maybe he's going to start dating again! I really hoped Kristina would get better. They would have made the perfect couple wouldn't they?"_

_The perfect couple…the perfect couple…_the perfect couple…

It echoed in her mind like she was listening to somebody shouting down a tunnel, hearing their words ricocheting into the darkness, embedding themselves in her thoughts. She had zoned out after that, letting Van Pelt tell her about how she loved the restaurant they went to and which wine she'd recommended them to drink. She couldn't think straight and it took everything she had left to hold back tears. Angry, confused; hurt, she felt the emotions hit her one after another, more following in their path. She was an emotional wreck, literally, but Lisbon had felt like this in the past so she had no trouble holding a convincing charade. Thankfully Van Pelt left when she did because if she had stayed…Lisbon didn't want to imagine what could have happened.

_Van Pelt stood up uncomfortably, immediately snapping Lisbon out of her vicious daydream._

"_Well, I guess I better see if Cho and Rigsby can get that warrant. I'll tell you if they find anything."_

_Lisbon felt a wave of guilt pass over her again. Why didn't she listen to people more when they weren't talking about work? No wonder they kept things hidden from her, they probably thought she wasn't interested._

"_Grace, did you find the girl? Is she alive?" _

_Halfway through the door Van Pelt turned, a smile still on her face but it was sad._

"_Yeah, we found her. Jane called me a few minutes ago. He told me to tell the police to check the stables where they kept their horses, about a mile down the road, and there she was! I don't know what sort of state she's in but she's alive. They're bringing her to Hightower as soon as she's had a check up at the hospital."_

_With that, she nodded her head and closed the door behind her._

Lisbon packed up her things and walked to the lift in a complete daze. She didn't even notice she had reached her car until she saw the key she was trying to put in the lock was actually her house key. Throwing her bag and files into the back seat, she revved the engine and pulled out of the car park, playing back all the information she had learned today.

1. Marianne and Josephine Odell owned two horses and they didn't seem to be struggling with any money problems.

2. Kristina Frye had made frequent calls to Marianne Odell's phone within the last 2 months

3. Jane had taken Kristina on a date

4. Josephine Odell was alive and well so Red John had either let her escape or she hadn't been in the house at the time of the murder

5. Jane had gone on a date…

6. Jane and Kristina made 'the perfect couple'

She slammed her fist against the steering wheel in frustration, causing the car to veer slightly to the right, but she didn't care. She couldn't understand why she felt so angry. Hearing that Jane was dating again she should be happy! Maybe he was finally accepting that his wife wasn't coming back and he needed to move on, to share his love with somebody else.

_Why isn't it you? _

The little voice in her head had changed its tune and Lisbon's grip tightened around the steering wheel.

_Why didn't he ask you on a date?_

"I don't want to go on a date with him. He can date whoever he likes. I don't care."

_Liar. _

She swore under her breath and switched on the radio, turning the dials until she found a station which wasn't foreign or full of white noise. A song had just finished and the bouncy presenter was getting his listeners ready for the next one.

"Now this next song is truly beautiful, it's just been released here in the US and well, you'll see for yourselves, but I think it's on its way to being number one so-"

Lisbon was tapping her fingers on the wheel impatiently and she was glad when the another more laid back presenter cut in with what she was thinking.

"Just play the song Joe! Here we go listeners, Fragile."

A soothing piano melody filled the speakers, just the kind of music she needed right now, slow and simple, and then the voice began to sing:

_'Six thoughts at once I can't focus on one  
__Seven days a week but my life has just begun…'_

Her heart sped up as she realised how well the words related to her emotions and as the song kicked into the chorus she felt hot tears falling down her cheeks. Angrily, she wiped them away but she continued to sway to the music. A red light stopped her at a T-junction and she turned the volume up so loud she felt the glass in the windows vibrating.

The road left would take her home to a small cabinet of alcohol and a bed she could cry in but to the right...the road took her where she could drive for a hours and hours singing along to the radio and some of the CD's she had in her glove compartment. She thought for a moment, watching as the red light switched to amber…

_'Sometimes I feel like I'm alone,  
Sometimes I feel like I'm that strong  
Sometimes I feel nothing at all...' _

The light turned green just as Lisbon wound the window all the way down. She flicked the indicator and, with a small smile, she turned right.

_'__I won't be afraid for the tears I cry  
I won't run, I won't hide, this how I feel inside  
A little fragile...'_

* * *

**Author's Note: **I realised that if I put the next chapter here it just wouldn't make any sense and everybody loves a bit of Van Pelt right? :D

I'm trying to wear down the Lisbon we see on TV gently. The next chapter will be better, up in about 6-7 days because I'm going to France.

Next chapter up as soon as possible, might need to watch some more episodes beforehand though...*grins like Jane* ;D

_Song_: Fragile - Delta Goodrem

~victwi


	5. Red Rosen Fears

_Red Rosen Fears_

Each of the blankets wrapped around her smelled like strong cigar smoke and freshly cut grass. The smell made her feel sick but she breathed in the mixed aroma until she could practically taste them at the back of her throat. Her eyes were tightly closed but she could still see the red and blue lights flashing through her eye lids. She covered the blankets over her head in a pathetic attempt to block them out but it made no difference, the colours continued to flash through the thin fabric.

A voice muttered something outside the car she was in, just yards away from where she was sitting, and her eyes snapped open, alert and ready. Another voice answered the first and she realised there was more than two people outside of the car.

"Where shall we take her now?" The first voice was deep and spoke in a monotonous tone, she guessed it was a man who was either very bored or never showed any emotion when he spoke.

"We've been told to take her to Headquarters; I think Hightower is going to handle it from there."

The second voice responded to the monotonous one, also a man, and she noticed how he stumbled on his words so he was either very nervous or the temperature outside was causing him to shiver.

"She's pretty shaken up; the hospital said she was okay to go as long as we don't try and force any answers out of her. Shall I drive?"

This was a woman's voice and, without knowing why, Josephine found her whole body suddenly breathe a sigh of relief. She didn't even know what this woman looked like, let alone who she was, but the tone of her voice made her feel relaxed and it was enough for her to close her eyes again.

"Hey, just because I'm tired and cold doesn't mean I can't drive!"

So the second voice was cold, meaning one of her guesses had been correct! She smiled slightly, pleased to know she had got something right, but then she remembered what they were talking about and why she was here. Her smile vanished quickly after that.

"Okay Rigsby," the monotonous man was speaking to him now, "hold out one of your hands. Keep it flat okay? I'm going to put the car keys on your palm. They have to stay there for five seconds. They stay there, you drive. You drop them, Van Pelt takes the wheel."

"Cho, no way, I forgot my gloves! This isn't fa-" but the rest of his words were drowned out by the sound of shaking keys.

"Come on Wayne. Can it really be that hard? After all the undercover missions and fights you've done…is holding a ring of keys so difficult?" The woman, Van Pelt, set her challenge to the man with a flirtatious edge. She guessed they must do this sort of thing a lot.

"Fine Grace," he emphasised her name like it belonged inside quote marks so she figured it wasn't use very often. "I'll do just that. In fact, you know what; I'll pay for your lunch if I drop them."

"You got yourself a deal. Cho, the keys?"

There was a jingling sound, Cho answering Van Pelt's question, and then complete silence except for the rustling of the trees and cars pulling out of the parking lot. If she had woken up right now she would never have guessed there were three people standing just outside the car but now she imagined them all gathered round the shivering man, watching and waiting to see if he could win his bet and, for a moment, she thought he had.

A small tinkle broke the silence and the air was filled with a warm laugh followed by a low groan. Rigsby had dropped the keys which meant Van Pelt would be driving them to their next destination, wherever that was. She remembered the name 'Hightower' being mentioned but because her brain was so scrambled, all she could picture was a very high tower in the middle of nowhere. Maybe they were taking her to stay there seeing as she couldn't go home…

"What! Oh come on Cho that was so much longer than five seconds!"

"No it wasn't. Time just goes slower when you're cold."

"But Cho-"

"Get in the car."

They were much closer now; she could hear each shaking breath they took and the crunch of gravel as they stepped onto the road. She curled into the smallest ball she could and closed her eyes, hoping to look as if she'd been asleep the whole time. The door to her right opened and a rush of cold air swept across her face, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, but then it slammed shut almost as quickly as it had opened.

Two more doors opened and closed, not as loud as the first yet they both welcomed in icy cold air and a familiar smell…the smell of rain. It wasn't raining now so she must have slept through the down pour but as its well known smell fought its way through the blanket's and filled her lungs, she couldn't stop the sting of fresh tears. She tried to wrap the blanket tighter around her legs but froze when she felt three pairs of eyes gazing at her.

"Could you shut the door any louder?" a female voice whispered sarcastically from the driver's seat, "You could have woken her up!"

"He's sulking because he lost. Just drive and don't talk so loud. She won't wake up." The bored voice (Cho had they called him?) always seemed to know what to say to them. He appeared to be one who didn't speak very much but when he did everybody listened.

So by process of elimination, Rigsby must be the one who was sitting beside her. She turned her head a fraction of an inch to the right and squinted through one eye. Sure enough, a man sat straight in an awkward posture and she could feel his leg quivering from the cold against her feet. He had a friendly face but it was set in a deep scowl as he gazed out of the window.

"I am not upset; I'm just hungry okay" he whispered in a harsh tone.

Risking a quick look at the driver and passenger she saw them exchange a knowing glance. Rigsby must use this excuse regularly.

"You can have some when we get back to the office." Van Pelt turned the key and the engine roared to life. Almost immediately the heater began blasting hot air into the car and she felt the leg next to her gradually begin to stop shaking.

"Oh Wayne, I hope you haven't forgotten," the car had stopped at a red light and the driver turned her head a fraction, just so Rigsby was in her line of vision.

"You owe me my lunch. The cafe just outside the office does a mean Greek tortilla wrap, right Cho?"

"I'm not getting involved in this."

The light turned green and Van Pelt continued along the road as an awkward pause filled the car.

"But I gotta admit, they _do _make a mean tortilla wrap. He won't get just one sandwich for you. Will you Rigsby?"

How he could keep the same tone of voice and a straight face she didn't know, but Van Pelt filled in what he didn't and chuckled quietly in her seat. Rigsby scowled even more, which she didn't think was possible, but she noticed how he sank lower in his seat and his face seemed to colour more as he watched Van Pelt laugh, entranced.

"How about we stop by on the way to the office?" The question was directed at both of them but she turned looked in the rear view at her back seat passenger. "Wayne's buying mine so I can get yours if you like Cho because the woman there knows I'm a regular. I'm sure I could get a discount on your oven baked deli"

"I'll make Rigsby pay. He owes me money anyway from the last sandwich I got him."

"Ah come on Cho! They had limited addition Bayonne ham, shipped over from France! France Cho! Do you even know what that taste's like, I mean it-"

As the man who loved food launched into a detailed description, she saw Cho and Van Pelt exchange another look, this time with a small smile on their faces. She felt her eyes prickle again and she squeezed them shut so as to not draw any attention to herself again.

Witnessing the look of affection in the woman's eyes as she glanced at Rigsby in the rear view mirror and seeing a small smirk on the stern man's face as he turned back to face the window, she felt something she hadn't felt in a long time. Surrounded by these three strangers, whom she had only just met, she felt safe.

She closed her eyes, snuggled further into the warm blankets and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of musical keys, a man who liked ham and two friends laughing at him as he rambled on about food.

* * *

_The chestnut brown flip flops she was wearing were hard to run in but they didn't stop her pounding down the marble staircase, faster than she had ever run before, jumping three at a time. Everything was a blur as it flew past behind her, forgotten already. She needed to get out of here, fast, if he caught her she knew the consequences were unimaginable..._

"_Jo, where are you. Get your scummy little ass right here now!"_

_She stopped, gasping for breath at the foot of the porch door. Could she really do this? Sure, she had thought about it for nearly two years but was now right time? She had to think about her mother as well…_

"_JOSEPHINE RED ODELL, YOU COME HERE RIGHT NOW."_

_The voice was closer now and his words made the blood thrum faster through her veins, sending a shot of adrenaline around her body. Her heart quickened and a cold sweat was beginning to break out on her back. He was drunk. She knew this because her middle name wasn't "Red". Such an odd mistake but it was enough. It was now or never. If she didn't run out of this door now, she never would._

_She twisted the cold metal handle and watched the heavy, oak front door swing open, thinking about the amount of times she had opened it to go to school or to pick up groceries for her Mum. Now she opened it to a new life. Freedom awaited her with no more pain or arguments, no more tears or fear. Stepping onto the door mat she hesitated. Her whole body screamed at her to run, to get out of the house as fast as she could before he came for her, but she couldn't fight the urge to look back into the house one last time. _

_So many memories had been made in this house. Some she would treasure like a child holding their first teddy bear but others…they would also be remembered forever but not through choice. They were wounds which were healed yet the scars were always there for her to remember. Her fists curled up just thinking about them…_

"_There you are. Trying to escape were we? I DON'T THINK SO."_

"_NO!" She screamed and the sound of it echoed around the room she was dragged back into the recently cleaned foyer. Her skin tore as his fingernails scratched at her arms. She writhed around, kicking out at thin air, struggling with everything she had left in her but the slipped on the heavily polished floor and grabbed her, tightly. _

_She continued to scream._

"_Mum! MUM PLEASE! PLEASE HELP!"_

"_She can't hear you Josephine. I have her now, she's all mine! All she needs now is Red and me. Why would she need you?"_

_Again, he had said the name Red. Josephine had only ever heard that name once when she had accidently overheard one of her mother's phone calls. None of it had made any sense, it was all talk of smiley faces and man called John who was red. Most of it sounded like she was describing some new horror movie so she had just forgotten about it. Until now…_

"_Please.." His other arm had her in a head lock and she was finding it hard to breath, each breathe she took becoming shorter and shorter. _

"_Please, isn't having my mum enough? Just let me go." _

_The room swam, everything merging into one coloured blur. She felt his breath in her ear as tears trickled down her cheeks, knowing what was coming next._

"_I'd rather have you Jo. You know that don't you?" A throaty laugh rumbled from his overgrown belly and she smelt the alcohol on his breath. She was shaking now, shaking so badly she thought she might explode into a millions pieces but she didn't care. Anywhere was better than here, with him. Anywhere was better than home._

_The shaking was uncontrollable. She tried to scream but her mouth wouldn't open and she felt herself collapse onto the floor. _

_He had dropped her. This was it._

_She thought she was going to be sick and she felt the bile sliding its way up into her mouth. A shadow came into view, just visible in her line of vision and she tried to drag herself across the floor away from it but she was too weak._

"_Jo?"_

_A woman's voice, it was familiar to her but she didn't know where from. Maybe it was her mother's, she'd finally come to rescue her, to make up for all the countless times she let her down. _

"_Mum, I'm over here!" But her words just came out in one long groan, it was hopeless. Her head lolled to one side and she curled up into a ball, waiting for the pain to hit her like it always did. The routine she was all to used to by now._

"_Jo, you have to get up now."_

_Her mum was here, finally. She'd come down the stairs and was finally going to put a stop to everything but before she could cry out to her, a sharp pain shot through her arms and her eyes flashed open._

"Sorry Josephine, I didn't know how else to wake you up. Bad dream? I've come to take you inside. Are you okay to move?"

It didn't frighten her that the person knew her name because they didn't sound threatening but she knew better than to trust anybody who sounded 'nice'.

She blinked a couple of times, letting her eyes adjust to the light and colours of the surrounding area. Sitting up proved to be more difficult because she had cramp in her neck and it was a couple of minutes before she could say anything, but the woman in front of her waited patiently until she was ready to speak.

An African American woman stood before her, leaning into the car wearing a slate grey suit. Her dark hair was scraped back off her face into a small bun at the back of her head and she was dressed to look strict yet approachable to her workers but, to Josephine, she looked friendly. She guessed that her job, whatever she did, was very high up and she did it very well.

"Who are you and…where am I?"

Just over the woman's shoulder she could make out a large red-bricked building with steps leading off upward, presumably into the offices of whoever owned it.

"You're at the CBI Headquarters, we'd just like to ask you a few questions and then we'll take you to a safe place to stay." She stepped away from the car door and motioned for her to follow.

"Don't worry; we're here to look after you."

Instead of following the woman Josephine sat up straight and stretched, feeling even more awakened when she put her hands back down. Where were the people who had driven her here, what were their names…Van Pelt, Rigsby and Cho? She would have felt much safer waking up to them instead of a woman she didn't know anything about. If she learned anything over the past few years is was that you should never judge anyone by a first impression. Always get to know them inside and out first, then make your judgments.

"Hey," she called out to the woman who suddenly stopped walking and turned round. A look of surprise flickered in her eyes when she saw that Josephine wasn't following her but it vanished immediately.

"How do I know that I can trust you? I don't even know who you are." Her voice sounded childish and she was embarrassed for having asked such a stupid question, but she didn't feel safe right now. She wanted to know that she could trust this woman.

"I'm sorry Josephine, I should have introduced myself. My name is Madeline Hightower; I'm the chief of CBI," she held out a hand, "I sent my agents to pick you up and they're inside now if you want to see them? Van Pelt told me you slept the whole way here so I hope you feel a lot more refreshed now."

Putting her own shaking hand inside Hightower's, she shook it and slowly pulled herself out of the car. Stepping out onto the gravel, she felt the blood beginning to rush to the tips of her toes and she curled them up in her shoes so she wouldn't get pins and needles. Hightower shut and locked the car, finally turning to face her.

"Shall we go inside then? You won't be in there too long, I promise."

She smiled at her and Josephine felt a rush of gratitude towards the woman. Hightower hadn't treated her like a child yet she had spoken to her in a way that wasn't spoken to adults. She understood that she was frightened, wary of who to trust and hadn't forced her to get out of the car. She liked her and that was enough right now.

Following behind the woman, Josephine felt like she was going into somewhere very important. She passed men and women in suits, nearly all of them carrying various files or speaking rapidly into a phone. She got the impression that the people here worked fast and did their job properly. Some of them muttered greetings to Hightower but not one of them gave her a second glance, each of them too busy with their own case.

"I think we'll take the stairs so you can get your legs working again. You've been sat in that car a while."

She headed towards a cream coloured door and held it open for Josephine to walk through.

"Thank-you," she muttered.

"You're welcome. Do you feel okay? You don't feel sick or anything because I can get the first aider to take a look at you."

She had grown tired of the people asking her questions like this at the hospital but she liked Hightower so she politely replied, "No I feel fine thank-you, but I could use a drink or something."

As they were climbing the stairs she realised how hungry she was as well and, as if on cue, her stomach rumbled and she clutched at it in embarrassment. Hightower laughed and pushed open the door they had just reached.

"I know just the person to get you something to eat and we have some drink here, I'll get Van Pelt to make you something. Do you like coffee?"

She remembered never liking the coffee her mum made her, but she didn't want to be rude so she accepted. They walked along a corridor and came to a long glass panel with two walkways. It resembled a room but was more of a large walk in office and Hightower backed up this thought by walking straight through the nearest gap over to a battered looking sofa.

"You sit here while I ask Van Pelt to get you your coffee. Rigsby will be in when I find him and you just tell him what sort of sandwich you like. If you need anything," she pointed in a direction down the corridor, "you can just come to my office and ask." And with one last smile, she turned and walked back around the corner again. Left to her own devices, Josephine sat back on the couch and took in everything around her.

The room itself was longer length ways than width ways and it was mainly a maze of desks. At the very top of the room there was a whiteboard, a television and an oval shaped table. Common sense told her that meetings and general discussions were spoken about round that table, probably with Hightower to tell her how they were doing on their recent case.

Where she was sitting, at the bottom of the room, was a table filled with a junk yet it was all in place. Pencils and pens were in the pot provided but more of them were scattered around the desk amongst scribbled on bits of paper. Someone worked here only when they had to, probably someone who liked to keep an eye on the rest of the team. Hightower maybe? No, her job was telling the team what to do, giving them advice when they needed it and getting them out of difficult situations. So who sat at this desk then? It reminded her of her own desk at home, messy yet well used.

"Hey, are you Josephine?"

A man she recognised was standing in front of her awkwardly with his hands in his pockets and a small smile on his face. So this was Agent Rigsby, the man who had lost the bet and loved his food. A lot. He was a lot taller than she had imagined but well built in the upper part of his body just like she had pictured him in her mind. His face was friendly, like Hightower's, but he resembled more of an older-brother sort of person, definitely not as strict as Hightower. He seemed like the sort who tried to crack the jokes to the team, yet usually ended up either being laughed at or told to shut up.

"Yep, that's me."

"I've been told you're hungry and I know the best food places around here so, what do you fancy?"

He leaned against the door frame and she couldn't help but smile slightly. He looked so laid back and relaxed it seemed to pass over to her. She leaned back into the comfy leather and breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Anything really, please. Just a sandwich will do-"

"Oh that's an easy one! There's a really nice place across the road and round the corner there is a really nice one too. Wait! If I take my car I'm sure I can get to Jeff's shop in time or maybe-"

He stopped when he realised he was rambling, or maybe he'd noticed was the look of slight confused terror she had on her face.

"Sorry, I just like to get the best for the best." He mimed a little bow and she laughed out loud. She stopped abruptly, not because she didn't want him to think she was laughing at him (like she imagined he usually was) but because she was surprised that she could laugh after everything that had happened.

"I'll um…have a cheese and ham sandwich please, you can pick the type of bread because I don't mind." She tried to give him her best smile, pleased that she had finally met two nice people after such a horrid week. She looked back up to the front of the office, turning her head so only her cheek faced Rigsby, pondering where everybody else was. Van Pelt was getting her a coffee and Hightower was in her office…but surely there were more people who worked here?

She turned back to face Rigsby, ready to ask him this very question only to find him gazing at her. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open slightly. He wasn't leaning on the door frame anymore; instead he stood upright with his arms by his sides. But he wasn't gazing at her in awe, not the way she'd had other people stare at her before, it was in shock. Eye brows raised, face suddenly pale and frozen to the spot, he looked like he'd just been slapped.

"Err…" She didn't know what to say because she had no idea what she had done to make him look like at her like this.

"Wayne, don't just stand there, you're blocking the door!"

A woman with bright red hair had appeared out of no where, making them both jump. She was carrying a cup of steaming coffee and laughed at their reactions. Josephine recognised her laugh, placing her as the woman who had driven them all back here, Van Pelt. She was also owed a sandwich.

Rigsby, the reason for his shock now forgotten, smiled at her and Josephine thought she saw something spark between them, but then they remembered where they were and reluctantly glanced away from each other.

"I have your coffee here but be careful, it's a little hot." As she walked in, Rigsby brushed past her and headed back towards the lifts to get the sandwiches.

A tiny sip of steaming hot coffee was all she needed to kick started her senses and it wasn't long before her fatigue had vanished. As the silence slowly became more awkward, she snuck a glance at Van Pelt while pretending to take a sip of coffee.

She was very pretty but in a boyish sort of way – purple shirt tucked into her trousers (with a belt) and a black jacket on top, yet she had a pretty face which needed no makeup and, even though her hair was tied up in a tight ponytail, she could picture her turning heads with her hair down…especially in a stylish dress. Something about the way she dressed and the way she held herself made her think that Van Pelt wasn't the sort who wore clothes like that. She liked to remain covered, closed up; hidden away so she didn't draw any attention to herself and no questions were asked.

"Lisbon's the person who will interview you, so you got nothing to worry about."

Lisbon, another person who worked here! At last, she would meet more of the people who worked in this office; maybe she was the one who owned the messy desk? She wasn't worried about what questions she would be asked; she'd seen enough cop shows to guess that. What frightened her was having to remember the answers to the questions…

"How long will I be in there for?"

"Oh not too long," she thought Josephine hadn't noticed, but when she turned her head she saw Van Pelt quickly looking away. She too had been looking at her face in the same way Rigsby had. What the hell was on her face? She rubbed her cheeks casually, trying to look as if she had an itch, but felt nothing that seemed out of place or uncomfortable.

"You'll only be in there half and hour tops, I think Lisbon only wants the basics at this point anyway."

"Do you know where I'm staying now? I can't-..I don't want to go back…" She couldn't finish the sentence without feeling tears in her eyes. She hadn't really been able to call it home anymore but, then again, she hadn't called it that in almost 3 years.

Van Pelt gave her a sympathetic smile and rubbed one of her shoulders soothingly.

"At the moment we can't seem to get hold of your mum's mother but I think Hightower is arranging something with Lisbon. Don't worry, you're safe with us. We'll look after you."

A warm friendly smile broke out on her face and Josephine couldn't help smiling back. She felt like she could trust her enough to ask for help with anything but she was still curious as to why Van Pelt and Rigsby had stared at her.

"Ma'am?" A man appeared at the door and Josephine saw that he must be the warden, the man who made sure there was no trouble from the criminals while on his watch. He wore his mustard colour uniform very smartly; walkie talkie secured on his shoulder and, she shuddered when she saw it, a gun sitting defensively in the holster on his belt.

"Could you take the girl down please, Lisbon says she's nearly ready."

"Okay, we'll be right there." She stood up and turned to face the sofa. "You ready to go, I can wait for you to finish your coffee.."

"No it's fine; it's still kinda hot anyway." She placed the still almost full cup of coffee on the desk and followed the red head down the hall, head held high, feeling more confident than she had felt in a long time.

* * *

Down the hallway, Lisbon was having trouble hiding her emotions.

She couldn't look her Boss in the eye; her hands, which were squeezed together tightly between her legs, were shaking uncontrollably and she was worried that the sound of her thudding heart would suddenly become so loud it would echo around the room. She had arrived back home late very early this morning and, having had only 3 hours sleep, she had been called to have an early meeting with Hightower. 2 hours later, they were still discussing the same topic and Hightower was growing impatient.

Lisbon had waited politely until Hightower had finished explaining her idea from top to bottom before she began trying to argue against it but her Boss was having none of it.

"Think about the girl, Lisbon. Her mother and father are dead and the step-father…well, you can just look at her first before I answer that."

"What about other family relatives? Grandparents, aunties, uncles; isn't there anyone else who could take her?

"Her mother and father both had no siblings and we've been unable to reach her grandma. We're still trying but, in the mean time, she needs somewhere to stay."

Lisbon pressed her hands together to form a steeple and looked Hightower straight in the eye.

"Ma'am, I love my job and you know I would do nearly anything for it but this is quite difficult for me to take on."

Hightower looked at the woman in front of her for a long time and Lisbon felt a pang of guilt slowly creeping up her back. She wasn't going to get out of this easily.

"Agent Lisbon, someone once said, 'Fear makes strangers of people who would be friends.' I think you could really get along with this girl, she seems grown up enough to make her own decisions and, well…she reminds me of you in some ways."

These last few words caught her off guard. It must have showed in her face because Hightower sat up in her chair with a sly smile.

"It won't be for very long, one maybe two weeks tops, and it'll give you a chance to get to know not only her, but yourself."

They stared at each other for a long time, unspoken words passing between them in one long gaze. Lisbon hadn't spoken about her past to anybody; she preferred to be the black horse among the others. They all had secrets; every now and again a case would make one of them act like Jane in a Red John case, but Lisbon kept herself to herself. No case could crack her in front of the team and no question anyone asked about her past would she answer…but Hightower wasn't stupid. She didn't know anything about Lisbon apart from what she had read in her file, which wasn't very much, and yet she seemed to have read Lisbon's profile like a book.

It took just a raised eyebrow from Hightower to break the gaze.

"I'll have an officer bring some of her things to your house. She's a teenager Lisbon, remember that. All she needs right now is food, a warm bed and somebody she can talk to."

"Was she even at the scene of the crime? Is she well enough for me to interrogate her?"

Hightower gave an exasperated sigh, "I have already spoken to her and she seems calm and well enough. Granted, she may be a little nervous under the surface but I think she is well enough to be asked a few questions. As for if she was at the scene of the crime, I believe that is for you to find out Agent Lisbon."

She stood up and crossed her arms behind her back, signalling that this was the end of the conversation. Furthermore, Lisbon had no choice but to accept that a 17-year-old girl was coming to stay in her home for maybe two weeks. Hightower wouldn't hear a negative word about it; her mind was made up.

"Josephine is waiting for you down the corridor. Remember, be nice. She's been through a lot these past few days and even though she may look tough on the outside, it may just be a mask to what's hiding on the inside."

"Okay Boss, I'll go now. What shall I do with her after?"

"I think the team can manage without you for the rest of the day, I'll see to that. Take her back to yours and get her settled in. Tomorrow I want you to evaluate everything she had to say. I'll see you in the morning. Maybe you can try and help coax Jane back to work? I haven't seen him since the day of Marianne's death."

Lisbon gave a brief nod and turned round slowly, trying to conceal any of the nerves and excitement in her belly from appearing on her face as she walked quickly towards the door, hurrying towards her office to pick up the files she needed to question Josephine.

If Lisbon had turned around or run haphazardly back into her boss' office, she would have seen Hightower shaking her head with a small smirk on her face as she sat back down in her chair to continue the many phone calls she had to make.

Just as Hightower predicted, Lisbon carried on walking without a backward glance yet she couldn't help noticing that each step she took seemed to be a lot lighter than the last…and this made her smile even more.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm in Malta at the moment I've been pestering the receptionist at the hotel to let me take my laptop down to reception just so I get can the Wi-Fi to upload it for you!

I'm thinking about editing it when I get back home but I hope you like it! Keep a writer happy and review after reading? I love hearing from you!

I love Hightower in this chapter! Are you missing Jane..? I hope you are because I've already started the next chapter and he is making a much awaited return! !

~victwi


	6. As Precious As Rubies

_As Precious As Rubies_

Midday on a cold October afternoon, Patrick Jane lay down on his uncomfortable mattress, muscles aching in exhaustion, and closed his eyes. It was nearly four days since he'd last been back to CBI Headquarters and he was ignoring all of Cho and Van Pelt's calls. He didn't feel guilty. If they had wanted to find him they could do so in mere minutes, but they knew he would come back eventually.

For the past three days he had been in the library, surrounded by books and glued to a computer screen researching. The letters written in blood on Marianne's wall were similar to another Red John case they had investigated. Jane had managed to get a wrongly accused man out of jail because he had information about Red John from some 'friends', but when the man managed to escape he was killed (along with the hooker he ordered) and his body was left in the motel bath, above which were the words "HE IS MAN" written in his own blood.

Jane looked across at the notebook he'd throw on the floor before falling onto the mattress and felt his insides burn. He'd finally worked it out, after spending nearly 24 hours in the library – 8 hours a day, he was one step closer to an answer...and it wasn't good.

Three days ago he opened one of the drawers in the kitchen, something he hadn't done since the police searched his house, pulled out a fresh notepad and pencil and wrote at the top "REVEALS IN TROY" and "HE IS MAN", words which meant nothing to Jane as they were. So he tried every code he could involving numbers; converting each letter into a number then reversing it, converting each letter into a number and adding them up, he even tried reversing them. He went as far as going up into the attic, digging out an old atlas and, using both letters and numbers, compared them to the coordinates on all 210 pages but it was to no avail.

Thinking back, he could not understand how he had missed it, the simplest code of all. Red John wanted Jane to crack it; toy with him, yes, but never enough to make his head ache. Being blinded with rage, and convinced that it must be ridiculously complicated, he went to the library in search of some answers.

Walking through the glass doors into the air conditioned silence was pure bliss. It allowed him to get away from the hassle and constant noise of the office, yet he wasn't alone in this building like he was at home and he finally had something to do.

The librarian at the desk looked at him through slanted eyes and she pursed her lips, clicking a little too frantically with her mouse. An obvious charade. He gave her one of his crooked smiles and gestured over to one of the computers, taking care not to say anything; he hadn't missed the very large "SILENCE" sign as he'd walked in. The frown lines around her eyes disappeared and she gestured with a small smile to the nearest computer and gave him a number on a piece of card. He took it and tried to give her one of his signature grins which proved difficult giving the troubled mood he was in.

It was at this same computer that he remained, 9am-5pm, for three days. He took any books related to Troy and piled them up next to him, taking care to put them back where they came from when he'd finished. He researched everything about the factual and legendary city, reading up on the Greek myth of the Trojan Warn. The Greeks managed to enter Troy disguised inside a wooden horse and that night the Greek force crept out of the Horse and opened the gates for the rest of the Greek army, which had sailed back under cover of night. The Greek army entered and destroyed the city of Troy, decisively ending the war.

On his third and final day he worked it out. He left the library and drove home, numb. He had read every historical article, every magazine column, and each and every book in the pile next to him, but nothing had jumped out at him as the answer. The answer had sent a chill down his spine and he left the library in a daze.

Now, he was sitting on his mattress, fingertips raised to the spot in between his eyebrows, eyes closed as if in prayer. He felt liked he needed to do just that right now, ask for some help or a miracle maybe. What he needed right now was another pair of eyes, a different point of view.

A memory from his past struck him out of nowhere and suddenly he was 9 year old Patrick, sitting alongside some of the other children who travelled with the fair, all of whom were gathered in a small circle listening to Madame Tsura finishing her story.

"…_and that my little gems," Madame Tsura sat up, the bangles on her arms jingling like the wind chimes hanging outside her tent, "is why you should never keep your worries to yourself. If Isabella had told her mother why she was so upset, her mother might have been able to help her."_

Madame Tsura had been the fair's fortune teller and palm reader and she could never go unnoticed. She wasn't the skinniest of woman, but with her gypsy multicoloured dress sense and beautiful beaded hair, people always had to look twice whenever they saw her. She had been a little over 40 when she had taught Jane, but she looked after herself and was always mixing up unusual brews behind the tent which some of the boys in his class had once said was an 'anti aging potion'.

Her tent was the most colourful in the whole field, red and purple fabric mixed with pink and gold silk covered the sides and the top was a tie-dyed green and blue. At the very tip of the top there was an enormous crystal ball which sparkled in all directions whenever the light struck it. Patrick thought that you could see it from the moon it was that colourful, but when he told his friend Jess this she merely stuck out her bottom lip and said he was "a stupid bubble butt" for thinking such things. He decided that she wasn't his friend anymore after that.

Everytime he and the rest of the children ran into the tent for 'Magic Education', they would always stop to breathe in deeply the wonderful aroma which spiralled from the incense Madame Tsura had dotted around her tent. The squishy purple and blue cushions were always ready for them when they arrived, neatly placed in a perfect circle, and not once had they never been there before them. Jane remembered his theory on this was that Madame Tsura always saw them racing to the tent in her crystal ball, so she always knew when to put down their pillows before they arrived. This time, he decided to keep his theory to himself.

"'_sura" the youngest of the class, Lilly, who still had trouble pronouncing Madame Tsura's name but was now waving her little hand in the air, almost hitting Patrick in the face, "what if you is scared 'bout saying you worry 'cause I don't know how they might say back?"_

_Madame Tsura smiled kindly at Lilly's mixed up of words. "That is a good question Lilly, dear." She smoothed down her heavily layered skirt and Patrick could tell she was thinking of a way to answer the little girls' query without questioning or confusing her._

"_If you are scared, my petal, you must tell somebody you can trust, Mummy or Daddy maybe? They will listen to you and maybe help you with your worry."_

_Lilly kept her head down for a moment, staring at her dirty feet and fiddling with a hole in her trousers before finally raising her head and meeting Madame Tsura's gaze._

"_But..what if you scared bout what Mummy and Daddy will say?" Lilly's eyes filled with tears and Patrick felt all the children stiffen in shock, some turned to look at each other, confusion etched all over their faces._

Lilly was one of the girls who didn't care what anyone thought of her. When she first joined the class she was only 4 years old but, unlike most of the children who started at that age, she wasn't shy or nervous. On her first day, she came into the tent and her eyes widened in wonder at the new surroundings, her mouth hanging open. Suddenly, she ran into the middle of the cushions and began spinning round and round in circles, head back looking up into the top of the tent, colours whirling. Eventually she fell onto the floor, dizzy and laughing uncontrollably, and from then on everyone loved her, even Jane. After her first class, Lilly asked them to come back to her parents stall to try and shoot the balloons. On arrival, the children gasped when the recognised Mr and Mrs "Ogre", the two people at the fair who the children feared the most, but they were even more shocked when Lilly ran up to Mr "Ogre" and hugged him calling him 'Daddy'. Nevertheless, they were all allowed to take it in turns trying to burst the balloons. The rifles which the adults used were too heavy for them to hold so Mr "Ogre" gave them pea shooters. Needless to say, but to Lilly's delight, they never won anything. Jane would always go back to his Father's tent in a sulk, looking forward to another attempt the next day.

_Silence filled the room. The circle of children could only watch in horror as tears began rolling down Lilly's cheeks, catching in her mousy blonde hair as they ran off her chin. Madame Tsura stood up and walked over to where Lilly was sitting, jangling with every step, and picked up the little girl so she was cradled in her arms._

"_Lilly, my gem, don't cry! Your Madame 'sura is always here for you whenever you need to talk to someone." She slowly sat back down in the big chair, facing the other children. "And you know it's always best to tell somebody else what's wrong."_

"_I-I-I'm scared…" Lilly's words came out in chocked sobs and some of the other children in the circle were silently crying too and Patrick's own throat felt like sand paper, struggling to stop his own tears falling. He just couldn't understand what had caused such a bubbly, cheerful girl like Lilly, who was never seen without a smile on her face, to have an outburst of such unhappy tears._

"_Shh sweetheart," Madame Tsura rocked the crying girl gently back and forth, rubbing the top of her head as she did so, "everything's going to be all right okay? Shhh.."_

_The children watched in silence as Madame Tsura continued to whisper soothing words into Lilly's hair and her sobs gradually turned into muffled sniffles. She buried her head into Madame Tsura's pearl white tunic, mouth now sucking on her thumb as if it was all she had left._

"_You can come and talk to me whatever time, okay? That goes for all of you." Madame Tsura raised her head up off Lilly's and Patrick was surprised to see that her eyes were glistening with fresh tears too. It scared him. It wasn't right to see someone so strong look so weak._

"_I want you to remember something children. No matter how big or how small your problems are, if you can't talk to your parents, or you're scared of what they might say, please come and speak to me whenever you like. Remember; worry often gives a small thing a big shadow."_

Jane still remembered those words today. Whenever he felt worried about something, he flashed back to the day he saw little Lilly sitting on a wise woman's knee, too scared to talk to anyone because she was trapped in a bubble of pain and fear. Jane wouldn't let himself let get like that and he made sure that the people around him didn't either, although he knew Van Pelt hid something about her family and Cho remained silent about his past…but that was different. They didn't want to talk to anybody about it, not yet. He needed to call someone, he needed help.

He needed Lisbon.

She hadn't called him yet and, even lying down now, this thought still made his stomach sink. It wasn't like her not to call, especially since she hadn't seen him for nearly three days. They hadn't spoken to each other since the time she'd found him in the bedroom at Marianne's house…

No doubt she would have been shocked to find him like that, having never seen him cry before, but was it enough to have frightened her away? He couldn't say he wasn't embarrassed because he'd be lying, but she hadn't run away or pushed him to answer any questions. It wasn't like Lisbon not to call him because of that. There and then, sitting just inches away from him, he had wanted to tell her everything like he had done with Cho. Maybe if he was more honest and open with her she would be the same with him. There were still so many things he didn't know about her. The only thing holding him back was...

Nothing. His mind went blank, white as snow, he couldn't think of an honest reason. He wasn't afraid of how she would react because he knew she would listen to him until he had finished before asking questions; even then she might not ask a single one. He wasn't worried about trying to get her to listen either, the amount of times they had said they were always there for one another had become something of a teenage pact between them; a well know hand shake or an empty promise which was usually broken.

No, he wasn't worried. He was afraid.

He thought of walking up to Lisbon's house and finding the florescent tape across her door, emblazoned with the words '**Crime Scene, Do Not Cross**'…standing over Lisbon's ridged body until he collapsed in a heap somewhere and wept… Lisbon's blood smeared up the walls into a twisted face... The image was almost unimaginable because it would not happen. Ever.

He could not let it happen.

So he decided on not calling to see how the case was doing, he was used to working alone after all and he knew that if they did find anything new it would be all over the media – television, radio, newspapers, the internet; everywhere! His phone would be ringing consistently and Lisbon would have left at least a dozen voicemails already. Extending an arm behind his head, he groped for his phone, flipped it open and gazed at the screen but there was no little envelope wating in the top corner. She hadn't called.

He flipped it shut and pushed it into his pocket, mind fixed on nothing except why she hadn't called.

What if she thought he was in love with Marianne? He wasn't, but what if Lisbon had gotten the impression he was? This was the first time he had ever cried at a crime scene, and over a woman whom he previously had connections with…she would think it was too much of a coincidence.

By now, Lisbon would know all about Marianne. Family, friends, work; the lot and that included phone records. His number would be on there a few times. He trusted Cho enough to know he wouldn't talk and even if he was put under oath, he would bend the truth in whatever way possible, just like Jane would do for him. The truth would be revealed eventually but Lisbon would know he was hiding something. She would see it in his eyes just like he saw the secrets hidden away in hers, a past just wanting to be forgotten.

His chest vibrated and his eyes snapped open. Reaching back into his jacket pocket, he pulled out the flashing phone and read the name of the caller. His heart seemed to twist in spirals when he saw who it was.

"This is Jane speaking," he tried to keep his tone as casual as possible

"Well, I'd never have guessed." Ah, how he'd missed that sarcastic tone.

"Where are you? You haven't been in the office for nearly four days! Hightower is being to get suspicious and, you know what, so am I. Talk. Now."

He couldn't help smiling at her last words, they were just so…Lisbon. He suddenly realised how much he missed seeing her at her desk and joking around with the rest of the team. A swooping feeling sensation plunged into his stomach as he picture them all working without him. He felt left out.

"Meh…" _Tell her! _An angry voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him, high pitched and shrill. _Just tell her what you've found out, maybe she can help you. _He rubbed his eyes lids roughly trying to block out his raging conscience.

"I'm waiting?" Lisbon gave an exasperated sigh and he imagined her sitting at her desk, straightening up pieces of paper with the phone balanced on one shoulder, eyebrow raised. The shrill voice seemed to fade away as this picture became clearer in his mind.

"I've just been checking up on some things. I'll be back in tomorrow, I promise."

_TELL HER. _

"Jane…you sure everything's okay? You know I'm always here for you to talk to, you know that?" There is was. The part of their routine, the line in a movie they could both quote, an option both of them were always offered yet never took.

"Ah Lisbon, are you worried about me?" _How can you joke about this Patrick Jane? Just tell her. Right now so you can't see the expression on her face. It'll only make it easier._

"Oh please, I just want to make sure you're not causing trouble. I've got enough paperwork as it is at the moment without you adding to it!" Was that a hint of a smile he heard in her voice?

_Say it. She seems in a good mood, you can hear it in her voice can't you? Better to tell her when she's happy than when she's annoyed with you. It'll hurt her a lot less._

'Who says it'll hurt?' he snapped back.

_You know it will…_

'You don't know how she feels about me. She's still upset about Bosco…'

"Jane? Are you still there?" Lisbon's voice seemed to be very far away, worlds away maybe. He shook his head and focused on her anxious tone, annoyed at the fact that he wasn't listening to her because he was arguing with himself.

"I am, just a little tired after a hard day's work."

"Work? Ha! Don't make me laugh" Again, there was the smile in her voice and Jane's ears crackled with joy at the sound of it. "What you do isn't work Mr. If you're not in the office tomorrow, I'll have to come and get you. I mean it."

"Hmm…I'll think about it" He raised his free hand above him and stretched before resting it behind his head in a relaxed pose. "But how do you know where I live, Teresa?"

"I've read your file…so don't even think about saying I'm stalking you."

His grin widened and he raised one eyebrow. "Would I ever say that Lisb-"

"I'll see you in the office tomorrow Jane." The line went dead. The monotonous dial tone filled his ears before he finally shut it closed.

_Quick! Call her back! _His inner voice pleaded, desperate for him to tell her what he had found.

'I can't tell her.' He stood and leaned back against the wall, staring across the room at nothing in particular.

_But if you leave it…it'll only hurt her more._

'How do you know it'll hurt her? She doesn't feel the same, even I don't know how I feel…'

_Tell her as a friend then. Take in your damn notes, put them down on her desk and explain it all._

'I can't. I just…can't'

A heavy sensation swept over him, starting in his chest and making its way around until it finally reached his head. He leaned back and rested it against the wall, feeling as if he had a tonne of lead resting on his shoulders. An image of a crying Lilly flashed in his eyes as he closed them, and he realised he felt exactly how she did all those years ago.

He was scared.

Shivers ran up his spine as he thought about telling Van Pelt, Rigsby or Cho because, no doubt, they would want to help him like they had so many times in the past. They were his friends; every time they worked another case together, the closer he felt to them and he loved them all, each in their own individual way. Hightower was the same, he could trust her to keep a secret but she would place him in protective custody and she would give him a serious talk about the rules of going outside, maybe even removing him from his house, the only thing he had left which still held so many memories.

He closed off the voice in his head because it made no difference what it said, the words echoing as if they were spoken in an empty room. He would fight this on his own. He had fought his own battles before and had even come face to face with Red John. Granted, he had been tied to a chair and entering before Lisbon arrived was just asking for trouble, but Red John hadn't killed him, he was still alive and now he knew why.

Jane stood up and walked down the stairs, listening to the familiar creaks on each floorboard as he cross the living room and carefully opened the front door. A torrent of rain met him as he stepped out onto the soggy doormat and he breathed in the cool wet air, feeling his socks dampen as the water seeped through his shoes. He lifted his head up and gazed into the dreary grey sky, listening to the thunder rumble far away. It was as if Mother Nature knew how he felt; cold, anger and sadness all bundled into one and she was using the weather to show him she understood. He'd never fully appreciated how beautiful the world was until this moment.

Arms stretched out in front of him and droplets catching on his eyelashes, he saw a flash of lightening, counting in his head until he heard the echoing rumble of thunder.

He didn't notice he was crying until he tasted a change in the water running down his face, he could feel their hot tracks down on his cheeks and taste the salt as his opened his mouth up to the sky. Why he was crying, he couldn't say. He had known the day would come in his life, everybody had to do it eventually, but he hadn't wanted it so soon. There we so many things he hadn't managed to do yet and he hadn't even begun to say any of the things he'd planned too.

Jane jogged back over to the doorway and sat in the porch shivering, tears still mirroring the droplets of the rain dripping off his hair. How could he tell them in the easiest possible way? Maybe he could tell Cho, just Cho, and they would find a way out of this together. Or he could tell Lisbon, show her all the evidence he had found as proof and then maybe she would accept it a whole lot easier instead of trying to turn it into a joke. No, he should tell them all, sit them around the table and lay it down for them, point by point.

A thunder clap slashed through the sky and seconds later it was followed by an ominous rumble which sent a chill up Jane's already soaked skin. It sounded as if the heavens were angry with him for keeping the secrets to himself, for not letting anybody help him. It was probably Madame Tsura, God rest her soul, trying to communicate to him, if he believed in that sort of thing. He could imagine her shaking a heavily ringed fist at him saying, _"Didn't you listen to me Patrick? 'Worry often gives a small thing a big shadow'. Why won't you let anyone help you?"_

How could he tell them, how could he possibly explain to them that in just a few days or weeks, he was going to die.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Could I kill off Jane? No I don't think I could..or could I? He'll be back with the others the next time you see him..but can he tell them his secret?

I feel that the writer's don't delve deep enough into Jane's past so I imagined what I think could have happened. Don't worry! It won't just be Jane's past I'll be digging in...

I love hearing from you all and I can't thank you people who have already written enough! I'll try and get the next chapter up slightly quicker if you like! Thank you for reading!

~victwi


	7. A Fire's Burning

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire in thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand dare seize the fire?

_A Fire's Burning_

Since she was fifteen, Teresa Lisbon always wanted to be a police investigator. Before there were cop shows like _CSI, Without a Trace _and _Criminal Minds_, before there was the technology and the weapons that were used so frequently today. No matter what anyone said, her mind was set… but it hadn't always been her first choice. If you'd asked her the same question when she was eight or nine no doubt the answer would have been a writer or a fairy. In just a few years, all those dreams changed. If something hadn't happened to her older brother, or her father had left sooner, maybe her life would have taken a different path. She could be on the stage dancing, sat in a cosy room writing books; following the dreams she'd originally grown up having. Work at school and the few friends she had made each day worth waking up to but when it came to waving them off at the end of each day, she couldn't help the stab of jealousy, knowing they all could go home to their normal lives, normal routines, normal families…

One look at Josephine Odell brought all these memories back to her in one long film roll. The eyes which had seen too much, hands constantly fidgeting in fear and her face…Everything in the dark viewing room seemed to rotate, slowly at first, quickening the more Lisbon looked at the girl, taking in every inch of her.

Sitting at the table on the other side of the glass was the girl who had been in all the pictures back at the house but they could have been two completely different people. Now Lisbon saw that the pictures up the staircase had just been little charades, masks to cover up the life they were really leading.

"You gonna go in there?"

The voice startled Lisbon. She'd forgotten she was not alone in the darkness of the room having asked Rigsby to watch her as she questioned Josephine.

"That's my job, Rigsby. I don't want to keep her in there for too long so I'll try and keep it short." She made to leave the room but, remembering what Hightower had asked her, she held the door open so she could shout over her shoulder.

"Would you mind trying to contact Jane? Hightower's getting suspicious as to what he's up to."

Rigsby's phone was already in his hand and speed-dialling to Jane's number before she had finished. She liked it when her team were keen.

"You got it Boss."

"Make sure you tell him that I'm getting suspicious as well."

They exchanged a knowing smile before she closed the door and walked into the room next door, file tucked under her arm and an attempt at a friendly smile on her face.

"Hey Josephine, I'm Teresa Lisbon. I'm only going to ask you a few questions because I don't want to keep you here for too long and I know you must be tired."

The girl gave a small smile and Lisbon couldn't help feeling a sense of relief rush through her. Jane was much better at communicating with the younger adults than she was. Having only two nieces, both under 10, Lisbon had never really grasped talking to teenagers who hadn't take part in a serious offence or weren't witnesses to any crimes. This girl had, in truth, done nothing. She couldn't remember anything and it seemed that the impact of what had happened hadn't fully hit her yet. Hightower had explained that Josephine hadn't shed a single tear and Lisbon knew, especially in her position, what it felt like. The truth hadn't sunk in yet but when it did…

"Now," she sat down at the table and opened the file in front of her, pen in hand, conjuring up the right words to say. Her thoughts strayed to Jane and what he would do but she was brought back to earth with a bump when the girl lifted up her head and her hair fell away from her face. She was careful not to stare because she didn't want to offend the girl but she knew something must have shown in her eyes because the girl nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and bit her lip, worried. It seemed that the others hadn't done as good a job as Lisbon at hiding their surprise.

Dark bags hung under her tired, bloodshot, eyes, hidden by dirty blonde hair which looked as if it hadn't been brushed in weeks. She was wearing a long sleeved pink top; the sleeves of which were stretched tightly over her clenched fists, a muddy gillett jacket and battered jeans. From the neck up, her skin was bruised purple and scarred with deep red cuts. It was like looking at the result of someone who had just survived a horror movie.

As she twirled a piece of hair in her fingers, Lisbon could see that her nails were bitten down un- naturally low and one of them was bleeding, but it was seeing the girl shaking that had the biggest impact on Lisbon because she wasn't shaking from the cold or angry, no, she was scared. Even surrounded by police officers who were here to protect her she was scared, and it was seeing this that helped the words come to her.

"Josephine, I don't want you to be scared okay? We're here to try and help you as much as we can."

The girl continued to twist her hair in her fingers but she gave a slow nod.

"I want you tell me everything and anything you remember from yesterday, anything at all. Start with when you woke up in the morning. Whatever it is, it may not seem important to you but it might to us."

She watched as the girl lowered her hands and clasped them tightly together in her lap. She looked into Lisbon's eyes and gave her a small smile.

"Okay, but I really don't remember that much."

"Don't worry; just tell me everything you can." She returned a reassuring smile and put down her pen. She didn't want to seem to intimidating, just enough to make her feel safe.

"I woke up yesterday morning and did what I usually do. Shower, put on my clothes, have breakfast and then finished up any late homework I didn't do the night before. Then I said goodbye to my Mom and walked down the lane to wait for the bus."

Lisbon imagined Josephine walking silently down the path to her house, alone, head down and gaze unfocused. She didn't want to interrupt but she knew Hightower would be annoyed at her for not following procedure.

"Was your Father around at the time? Did you see him at all?"

The mention of her father caused a dramatic change. Every muscle in Josephine's body tensed as if she was preparing for a fight and she shook more than ever, eyes flashing red as she gazed at Lisbon and said, "He's not my father."

The words placed themselves on the table and seemed to shriek themselves at Lisbon. Josephine might have just shouted them. They seemed to echo around the room, trying to escape from the four walls surrounding them.

"He's my step-father." That explained a lot. She cleared her throat and the girl looked back down in her lap again.

"So anyway, as I was walking up the lane I looked over at the stables, where we keep our horses, and I saw smoke coming out of the roof of the barn. I, like, ran over and as I got nearer I noticed the fire."

It was silent for a moment as she fiddled with a hole in her patched up jeans. Lisbon could only watch as Josephine raised her head slowly and she was surprised to find there were tears in her eyes.

"The horses are some of the only friends I have; I couldn't just leave them there to die! I had…I had to try…"

She looked back and forth from Lisbon to the straight faced police officer standing at the door as if pleading them to understand the words she couldn't say. Lisbon understood.

"It wasn't your fault…"

"It was!" She slammed her fist on the table and Lisbon's pen rolled off the desk but she made no attempt to pick it up.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"No, please," the girl sighed and she seemed to crumple under the guilt of what she'd just done.

"It just hasn't settled in yet, you know, everything that's happened. I feel like everything is my fault because if I hadn't gone over to the barn, I wouldn't have got hit on the head and then…maybe I could have stopped them getting to my Mum and-" she closed her eyes tightly and bit down on her lip so hard, Lisbon was worried she might draw blood.

"Maybe I could remember more…"

She wondered if the girl would mind coming home with her and staying at her house or if she would be scared and once again reveal the brewing anger she kept just beneath the surface. Either way, Lisbon felt she could take it because she knew what it felt like to be abused. It was something she wanted to leave behind forever and she didn't want to go into it here and now in front of the people she worked with because even they didn't know …although she figured Jane knew something or had taken a 'guess' at the very least. Nevertheless, this girl needed to go home at some point and bombarding her with questions she couldn't answer in a small room probably wasn't doing much to her temper.

"Okay," Lisbon kept her voice soft as she bend down to pick up her pen, "if that's all you can remember then we'll take you somewhere you can get some rest. I just have one more question for you, okay?"

Josephine nodded slowly, her gaze still fixed upon her shaking hands.

"If your step-father could go anywhere, to hide or stay, where do you think he would go? Do you have any relatives close by or does he have any friends at his work?"

"He has a lot of friends." The words were said in a monotonous voice yet there was a hint of a sneer in what she said. They meant a lot more than she was letting on but Lisbon didn't need to guess.

"If you can, I'd like you to write down the names and addresses of those people but the doctors at the hospital told me you suffered a mild concussion so you're memory might be a little hazy for a couple of days."

She placed a pen and paper in the centre of the table and closed the file in front of her, sitting up straight in her chair preparing to leave. She looked directly into Josephine's sea blue eyes and saw a million different questions screaming out at her.

'_What if I can't remember?'_

'_What if the thing I need to remember is something I can't…'_

'_Why can't you help me remember?'_

'_I'm scared…can't you help me?'_

"I know but thank you." She gave Lisbon a shy smile and pulled her sleeves over her hands.

"I'm feeling a little dizzy again. Is there somewhere I can lie down, please?"

"I'll just clear up my desk and take you to.." Saying 'my house' sounded a little too odd so she quickly changed tack. "..where you'll be staying. I won't be long."

They exchanged smiles, confirming that Josephine knew she was to stay here until she returned and then Lisbon hurried out of the room. Once she was in back in her office, she sank onto the sofa and put her head in her hands, taking long breaths. Although on the outside Josephine Odell seemed like a polite and brave grown up girl, the inside was a completely different story. Not only was she confused and scared but Lisbon was worried about how she would cope when the after shock finally hit her.

She stood up and began rifling through the mountain of paperwork on her desk, groaning inwardly at the sight of it, and finally found her cell phone. She flipped it open and speed-dialled the first person on her list, not caring that she had already asked Rigsby to call him. There was only one person she needed to talk to right now and, having not been in for almost four days, she was beginning to miss having somebody who could put a smile on her face.

Patrick Jane could do just that.

**…  
**

He leaned forward and stared hard at the TV. He was on the news! Could you believe it, the fucking news! He looked at his watch and rubbed his smooth jaw. It was only 11.03am. Maybe not _the _top story but still, he was on there. He'd have to put a stop to that…or would he?

He sipped his green tea and reached across the table for the remote, ramming the volume up a couple of notches so the orange presenter seemed to be shouting the words at him out of his perfectly white-toothed mouth. How many people would be watching this tanned prick? Hundreds of thousands? Definitely. Much more than that, he shouldn't be modest. Millions! People were sitting in their offices, at home, in hospitals, wherever they could get goddamn signal, watching this channel about _his_ murder. They didn't deserve to because they didn't know how much effort he had put into it, how he had chosen them. No, they only had half the story, the half the newsreaders thought was right and it was always wrong. Still, he liked seeing his beautiful red smiley face blown up on full screen and the little picture of the person he'd killed before he made them someone special. To think, if he hadn't slit their throat, half of them would never have made it onto the television if not for him. They had him to thank for that.

He felt himself getting excited at just the thought of what he had done and he closed his eyes, trying to stifle the cough tickling the back of his throat. He always remembered a pretty face and his last one had been one of them. Every curve, every line, every misshapen freckle, he remembered it all as if they were on the floor in front of him right now. They were gifts to him and gifts to the media. If the papers and news broadcasters didn't have him to write about, what else would they have? Dull politicians, worthless celebrities? He had more talent in his fucking big toe than any of them had in their lifetimes . He played better games with the media and they loved to tag along. And of course, Patrick Jane liked to join in too.

It hadn't started like that. His first couple of treasures had been about him finding himself, working out what he did best and building around his strong points. He liked it when they struggled. It made it so much more fun with the adrenaline pumping through him, at the thought of being caught and taken away from all the fun and games. Patrick Jane had never been part of the plan until he walked out onto that stage and opened his big mouth.

"_An ugly tormented little man" _he had said. No sooner were the words out of his mouth, the rage had filled up inside him. All those people watching had heard him say that. About him! He couldn't have that. No pretty little bastard would ever, _ever _get away with saying that about him. He couldn't have himself being humiliated by someone and not get his own back.

So if he'd kept his mother fucking mouth shut, maybe his beautiful wife and child wouldn't have their throats slit. Just a little something he liked to remind himself once in a while. It never failed to make him smile. After all, she'd been the most interesting one to kill and the most fun.

The sweat began to gather on his forehead and on the back of his neck just at the thought of it. He licked his dry lips and his hand gripped the smooth leather on the chair's arm, twisting it in his clammy, shaking fingers. He wished they'd fight more like she did. Maybe if he attacked more beautiful woman with children it would be more exciting. He never understood why they always tried to protect the children.

The piece ended and the dramatic music crackled out of the dying speakers, cueing the commercial break. He stood and brought the empty tea cup over to the sink. He hummed the catchy music through his heavy breaths as he washed the saucer and cup and set them down to dry. Then he turned off the TV and reached for his little black book which sat in the middle of his desk.

It was nearly time. And Patrick Jane was so close.

* * *

**Author's Note: **After the few reviews I had for my last chapter I decided to stop writing this story, but the new series is back and it inspired me to start back up again!

I don't mind if I don't get any; I write for the pleasure of writing but I won't put it up if I don't think many people interested... ;D

~victwi


	8. There's A Blush In Thine Eyes

And what shoulder and what art?

Could twist the sinews of the heart?

And when thy heart began to beat

What dread hand and what dread beat?

_There's a Blush In Thine Eyes_

The banged up little Citroen DS-19 trundled into the car park and parked neatly into its usual space. It felt good to be back at Headquarters and its driver felt exactly the same. Straightening his rear view mirror, Patrick Jane took a moment to admire the place he worked, if you could call what he did work, and smiled sadly. So many memories had been made here since he had started working for the CBI. Whenever the team walked out through the doors, there was never anything but the goal of wrapping up their recent case, but when they returned, sometimes in frustration or sadness, they would always talk to each other. This was a place where tears could be shed from sadness or laughter and any problems could be talked over and passed around without judgement, but problems were different to secrets and they all had at least one of those…

He watched Van Pelt smile sweetly in thanks at the coffee cart owner as she collected her morning coffee and waved a goodbye, completely oblivious to the look of sadness upon the man's face. He knew she didn't love her coffee as much as he loved her. The man continued to watch her as she walked away and each step she took seemed to set his heart down another notch…but then an angry woman slammed her change down on the counter and he had to tear his eyes away. Unbeknownst to the poor man was Jane sitting in his car, not too far away, who had just witnessed the man's act of unrequited love and was now chuckling to himself as he opened his car door.

Van Pelt saw him before he reached her and she waited until he stood panting beside her, straightening out his waist coat.

"Jane, I was beginning to wonder if you still worked with us. Where have you been?" She stirred her coffee whilst raising an eyebrow questioningly at him but he didn't miss the small smile playing on her lips.

"Oh you know. I've had things to do, places to see, people to visit."

She laughed at his lie and he thought he saw the coffee man glare at him over his customers' heads. Although he enjoyed teasing him for being so shy, he couldn't quite help feeling a little guilty. After all, Van Pelt was only his work college, he could even call her a close friend, but that was as far as it would ever go. She was far too young and out-going for him and somebody else already had their eye on her who wasn't the man who served her coffee each morning. Agent Rigsby hadn't gone unnoticed as much as he hoped he would.

"I just needed some time to think over some things but I'm glad you've all missed me." He stepped out of the doorway and gave a small 'after you' gesture to Van Pelt who smiled in return and walked in ahead of him. Before continuing on, he turned back to the glaring coffee counter man and gave him a small 'that's how you do it' tilt of the head, throwing in a wink when he saw the man flush bright red. Hurrying to catch up with her, he realised he'd forgotten everything he'd found out yesterday. Jane would trade the coffee shop man's little problem of asking out a girl for all of his.

...

Lisbon knew he was back before she had even walked into the building. The people on the way to the lift seemed to have a slight skip in their step as they dashed in different directions and she could have sworn she saw someone smile at her. Or maybe she was just imagining things; the happiness and relief inside her had finally surged past her heart and was working its way up to her head, making her see slightly delusional images.

She didn't know why she had missed him so much, the last time she had seen him was back in the bedroom of Marianne Odell's house not even a week ago. She couldn't forget that easily. She had known he would come back eventually because they could never keep him away, but this time she couldn't deny that she hadn't begun to have second thoughts. It wasn't because she didn't love the rest of the team, anything but that; they actually did what she told them to do and she'd had little to no paper work the whole of this week, but it seemed like they deemed her as the 'no question's asked' Boss who expected them to speak to her about nothing but their work which she could understand. That was what she was there for after all, to tell them what, when and where to go yet she felt they held things back from her because she was their Boss. Patrick Jane was different.

He was open to her problems and, on the few occasions when she had been venting her frustration, he would listen to everything she had to say before giving any advice. He could read her like a book, which was partly her fault, but from the little she had told him about herself he knew so much more, most of which was from 'guess work' or sheer luck.

There was so much more she wanted to tell him, so much he hadn't guessed because she kept it hidden well away. Because he hid secrets from his own past she felt it was only fair to keep her own cards close to her chest. Maybe when he told her a little more about his past then she would share more about hers but until then, they would remain hidden.

The lift doors swung open and the sound of laughter filled her ears causing her to stop abruptly because it was so unfamiliar. Even the walls seemed to sigh with relief as the sound reverberated up and down the hallway, making the corners of Lisbon's lips turn upwards as she walked towards its source.

Her heart actually skipped a beat when she saw him and this immediately banished the smile from her face because it angered her. She could never think of him that way, not only because of the position she held in her job but because Jane was still in love with his wife…and the recurrences of Red John didn't help. These days, having a conversation with Jane without a reference to Red John was like trying to have a conversation without saying the word 'and', virtually impossible. So even though her heart sent a ripple up her arms she kept her face straight and her arms by her sides.

"What's so funny?"

All eyes turned to her and the mood shifted at once. Rigsby cleared his throat and straightened up, rocking on the back of his heels as he opened the file in his hands and pretended to read. Van Pelt focused her gaze on the computer screen and began typing frantically even though Lisbon hadn't given her anything to type about, and Cho, well, his face didn't change. He merely looked at her expectantly, waiting for the next task she was about to set them.

Usually this abrupt change would cause Lisbon's heart to sink in confusion but today she only had to look across at the beaten up leather sofa for it to lift again because there he was; lying stretched out with his arm tucked lazily behind his head which was cocked to one side so he could see her. He smiled slowly and the corners of his mouth seemed to touch the edges of his eyes. It took Lisbon everything she had to stop herself from grinning back.

"Ah, I should have guessed it was you causing all the noise."

"It's nice to see you too Lisbon!" He pushed himself up off the sofa and stood, hands in pockets, grinning around at them all. "Isn't it nice to see her?"

They all nodded robotically and Lisbon gave them half a smile because she knew they were only being polite. None of them would ever have said that to her when she came in each morning but Jane seemed to know it was what she liked to hear.

"Well, thank you but that doesn't get us anywhere with the work that needs to be done does it?" She raised a questioning eyebrow at him and turned to address the others just as Rigsby cleared his throat.

"How's the girl?"

She bit down on the inside of her cheek before speaking, trying to phrase the words so they didn't sound judgmental or too motherly.

"Seems to be coping pretty well, she's asleep right now but I told her not to leave the house because I'd be back to see how she's doing. She says thank you for the coffee and sandwich too."

Rigsby seemed to struggle with whether or not to say something else but decided against it and gave a small smile instead.

"Okay. Cho, take Rigsby and go down to Mr Odell's work, downtown. Van Pelt will bring up the address for you; see if any of the guys he worked with have any idea where he might be. I have the list of names Josephine gave me here."

She took out the folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Rigsby who immediately passed it on to Cho, just like she knew he would, and they hurriedly pulled on their jackets.

"Van Pelt, we haven't heard anything on Mr Odell but bring up his bank statements, credit cards etcetera and if anything goes live call the guys. I also want you to check Marianne's work account too, see if there's anything out of the ordinary there." Already hammering away at the keyboard, Van Pelt gave a brief nod to show she understood.

"I'm going back to look over the house one last time." She spoke more to herself than to anyone else in the room but she could sense Jane watching and listening to every word. She quickly turned away so he wouldn't see her cheeks heating up and set off back to the lift. Three steps and he walking next to her with his jacket on and a spring in his step.

"Come on Lisbon, I return on your request and now your trying to get rid of me?" He smiled at her and the jolt of her heart chimed ironically with sound of the lift doors opening. She entered them quickly, laughing at him over her shoulder as he followed.

"I only asked you to come back because Hightower was getting suspicious about where you were!" She pressed the button for the ground floor and the doors closed. "If I wanted to get rid of you, there are many things I could have done."

His reaction was exactly what she wanted; a raised challenging eyebrow and a cheeky grin on his face, he turn to face her…just as the lift door opened. She hurried into a foyer full of people rushing back and forth, just the way she liked it.

"Oh really?" Jane's voice was curious yet it had a flirtatious edge to it which made Lisbon let slip a laugh. "Enlighten me on these things Lisbon; I like to be prepared."

"Ah ha," they pushed through the double doors and the sun's rays crashed down on them like a warm shower, "I like to have some of my own tricks up my sleeves Patrick Jane so you're not the only one." They smiled at each other but as she turned to leave he reached out and caught her arm.

"I missed you Lisbon." His words took her by surprise and, when she turned round, she realised his face was set in a serious manner; the smile didn't reach his eyes but his dark skies spoke more than words, fixed on nothing else but her own brown pools. "You're one of the reasons I came back. Its lonely being by yourself for a long time, remember if you ever need somebody to talk to, you know you can to me."

They stood facing each other, unmoving; fellow co-workers hurried past them unaware that in their world there wasn't enough time in the day but in Lisbon's time itself seemed to have stopped. Thoughts and phrases bubbled to the surface, floating at the edge of her mind deciding whether or not they should be spoken out loud.

'_He says it to everyone,_' she told herself, '_I'm not special in that way. We work together, that's it, and the line ends at friends. That's all he's being, a good friend..._'

Slowly, the world began to fast forward back to normal speed. Heart hammering at its natural pace Lisbon forced her jaw muscles to contract and, using strength she didn't know she had, she managed a smile. He returned it with one of his usual grins as if nothing had happened, already making his way over to the car. Lisbon stood numbly where she was watching him walk away and was surprised to find an image of Kristina Frye floating through her chain of thoughts. Jane had asked Kristina out to dinner, not her.

This information infiltrated her mind as she followed him over to the car, he heart sinking with every step she took.

…

The man took a deep breath, letting the fresh, unseasonably warm air fill his lungs. He knew he shouldn't be here but his whole body was tingling, with each and every one of his senses on high alert, like a lone assassin who hears the slow movements of his kill in the room above. He'd tried all sorts of shit back in high school, but this – this was a natural rush that no high could ever come close to. The adrenaline was pumping through him like he was being injected with it. Just the thought of being recognized or stopped by a cop made his hairs stand on end. It gave him a fucking buzz.

Call him crazy, but as he looked across at Patrick Jane he could thought he could smell him. A rich scent, probably layered over the top with some expensive new fragrance to add to the cockiness he already had. The women he attracted were always falling over themselves at the sight of him, arrogant and proud, not a care in the world but for himself. This woman didn't fall into that category.

Standing at shoulder height next to him he guessed she was around 5'4, with black hair which fell just below her shoulders and dressed smartly but not for him. This woman dressed for work and he liked that about her. Women who could think for themselves and took no shit were always brilliant in bed and fought like lions. Teresa Lisbon. Even her name had a tough edge to it. He chuckled quietly to himself.

He rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants, leaning back in his chair so he could rest his feet up on the table in front of him, binoculars raised in both hands. The trees were his friends right now; keeping him hidden from anyone's line of vision so they had no way of seeing him at all. He was camouflaged perfectly.

He remembered exactly when he'd made up his mind in knowing the black haired beauty would be next. It was when he had seen her arguing with Jane outside this very place from this exact same spot. He loved how she walked away when he was trying to explain something to her, never bothering to look back and see his smug little smile vanishing off his face. She could crush his heart in the palm of her hand without even realising it.

She needed someone like him, somebody who would truly love her and treat her the way she liked to be treated. With force. A woman who walked with her head held high like she did didn't take crap from anyone. Of course, this wasn't his only reason for making her his next treasure. There was always another reason to every choice. A man didn't screw another man's wife because he loved her. He did it because he could get away with it or because she enjoyed to it more with him.

He'd seen the look in the Jane's eyes, trying to exchange his feelings to her in one piercing gaze. It was the sort of bullshit you got in Hollywood movies. The world didn't need anymore of that especially from a heartless prick like Patrick Jane. People had books to read and movies to watch if they wanted any of that. However, Patrick Jane had been growing closer and closer to this feisty agent the more he worked with her. It seemed she was somebody he could confide in and she was somewhat closer to him than any of the other members of the team.

"Big mistake Mr Jane," the man whispered to himself and he took a sip of green tea, spilling it a little as he started coughing. He mopped up his chin with the back of his hand.

The little black book was open on the desk, filled with times and places; dimensions and calculations, all prepared for taking his fiery prize and brandishing it in Patrick Jane's pompous face. The man lowered the binoculars and watched them drive away in her car. The clock was ticking for him and soon, all too soon, both of them would run out of time.

Patrick Jane has just proven a point; one look truly _could_ kill.

…

Jane wasn't sure what had happened back there but he had a feeling it was what had caused the silence in the car. A throbbing pulse was bouncing between him and Lisbon as if they had just had one of their usual rows but this time it had felt like quite the opposite. He tapped his knees nervously and turned his head away so Lisbon couldn't see him grinning. Whatever had happened back there had made her nervous and this excited him because she very rarely ever got nervous.

The giddy feeling vanished when he realised he probably wouldn't even be around to see if whatever _had_ happened back there could grow further into something he could only imagine happening with Red John gone forever…

"You okay?"

They had stopped at a red light and she was looking at him in the rear view mirror her eyes, unreadable as always, gazing into his. For a fraction of a second he hesitated as the little voice tried to break free from its chains, to scream all the words it was forbidden to say, but he pushed it back. Soon, it would be let out its cage soon, and he would have to tell the truth. He'd always found it hard to do that.

"The weather and I are feeling the same today; cheerful and warm." She shook her head and turned back to face the road but he didn't miss the small smile on her cherry red lips.

He turned back to the half rolled down window closing his eyes and let the sunny breeze scorch his face. The feeling of hopelessness broke through the boundaries he had set up around him and he welcomed it; embraced it as if he were an old friend. He was used to feeling this way, used to losing things he already had and, in this case, loving the people he would never have.

* * *

**Author's Note: ***sighs* Dear me Patrick Jane, you're letting your head rule over your heart!

Thank you to ALL the people who reviewed and read my last chapter! This chapter and a thousand Jane-like-smiles are for you!

I realised I'd had practically no Jisbon in my story and this made me sad :(

R&R for a QU ;D (Read and Review for a Quicker Update)

~victwi


	9. Red Remembrance

_Red Remembrance_

Josephine woke up with a soft cry; drenched in sweat and gasping for air. She glanced around the room, lit up by the bright midday sun. Josephine had left the curtains open last night; hating the stifling feeling of having them closed because she liked to look at the stars before she went to sleep. They sparkled in their billions, her guardian angels watching over her as she finally made it to the end of another day…but she wouldn't have to think like that anymore because now she could wake up without feeling scared.

She shivered, pushing the covers back and let the sun's warmth sooth her legs. She closed her eyes and was surprised to hear the soft pattering of rain falling onto the open window and the sound of the birds singing nearby. For one tiny moment, the world seemed to just disappear as the rain washed all of her troubles away…

As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she closely examined the room, taking in every little detail about it. It was much smaller than her bedroom, with bare white walls and a little desk in the corner, the double bed was the largest item in there, but the carpet and curtains were free of dust so she guessed this must be used as a spare bedroom.

The door was slightly open and she could see the top of the banister leading downstairs to the living room which she already knew wouldn't be vacated. She was quite alone in the house. After telling her to make herself at home, Lisbon had explained that she would be back by six o'clock but "she wasn't to leave the house for any reason what so ever". If she had any problems, no matter how small, she was to call the number stuck to the fridge but she was determined not to ring it.

Her clothes and underwear were sitting on top of the little desk, presumably brought over from her house some time in the early hours of this morning, but she was touched by the fact that Lisbon had neatly folded them all up and arranged them into little piles; trousers, underwear, T-shirts and tops. Choosing an outfit was easy but she was careful not to ruin the neatly folded pile as she took the T-Shirt she wanted from the bottom. It had been a long time since anybody had ironed her shirts, balled up her socks together or folded her jeans. Maybe it was because she'd lost all those who'd cared about her in life, torn away from her like petals on a flower, no longer there for her to hold onto.

The sound of the rain on the window was gradually fading and she sat back on the bed with her eyes closed until the pattering disappeared completely. All was silent but for the last few drops falling from the window sill into the puddles below and the birds tweeting their relief but Josephine was disappointed that it couldn't have lasted longer. The sound of the rain was the one thing that relaxed her more than anything. Opening her eyes, she made up her mind to go exploring. After all, she was staying here for god knows how long so she thought it was best to look around as much as she could without invading Lisbon's personal space.

Outside of the room she was already in were two doors – one she guessed was the bathroom so the latter must be Lisbon's bedroom. Not wanting to invade Lisbon's privacy, and because she thought it was rude to enter anyone's bedroom without their permission, she poked her head around the bathroom door and then headed down the stairs into the living room.

Reaching the bottom she felt a change in temperature and said a silent thank you to Lisbon for bringing her slipper socks because the air was icy. Two large arm chairs stood opposite each other with table in between them littered with a variety of magazines, books and television guides. A purple chequered tea towel was draped over the top of one arm chair and she noticed a mug of half finished coffee balanced atop a place mat reading "Cups On, Stains Off!" but she spotted a few circles branded onto the mahogany wood. She couldn't help smiling. The curtains were drawn back and the tall windows made the room look ten times bigger than it was, with net curtains covering them embroidered with beautiful patterns. Josephine wanted to walk over and run her hands over them but she was determined not to look childish, even though nobody was watching her.

To her left was a small kitchen, complete with cooker, refrigerator, sink and a few cupboards but before that was a long desk and two modern bookshelves with only the bottom sectors filled with novels and atlases. There were various coloured boxes, each different in size and different in sound when Josephine shook them; statues varying from Chinese Buddha's to Egyptian Sphinx's; antique vases filled with dusty artificial flowers and right at the very top, framed in a little cardboard pink frame, was a child's crayon drawn picture signed in their best attempt by someone called 'Sally'.

Pondering on who this could be, Josephine moved over to the desk opposite the front door which was made up of two tables joined together to make one large one. The first desk was cluttered to the point of having no space on it at all; florescent post-it notes were dotted everywhere alongside empty notepads, crumpled pieces of paper and to-do-lists which still hadn't been completed. Four square pictures hung above the desks, making up an image of a countryside cottage – the types you often saw in British Cop Dramas, where in such a small village there always seemed to be so many people getting murdered. Her mother used to claim it was a wonder the whole place wasn't littered with bodies by the end of the series.

The next desk was different to the messy, cluttered one. Filled with rows upon rows of framed photos in various shapes and sizes, they were all crammed together on the dusty desk top, each spotlessly clean. Josephine crouched down on her knees to get a better look and, starting from the very back, carefully examined each one of the pictures individually before placing them on the floor next to her in the exact the same position as it was on the desk.

Josephine recognised Lisbon's older brothers immediately because they shared her dark hair and piercing bronze eyes. Her mother and father were equally as easy to spot because Lisbon had inherited so many of their features; her mother's high cheek bones and posture in the way she stood and her father's nose was also easy to spot in a photo where they were both laughing together.

Pictures were such funny things, she thought, as she studied the smiling faces – faces that were becoming more familiar to her with each new photograph she looked at. Snapshots were only a split-second caught in time, but for some people they could capture so much more than just a moment. A family vacation. A night out. A time in college. The high school years.

Lisbon dressed as a little witch on Halloween one year, standing next to her three vampire brothers, all of them pulling what they thought was a scary face. A happy Lisbon sitting with two trophies in her lap. Lisbon hugging one of her brothers as he spun her round in her graduation uniform, fireworks exploding in the sky above them as she threw her head back in laughter. A little girl with blonde hair tied into pigtails was dancing with Lisbon in the kitchen. Could this be the Sally who had drawn the crayon picture?

The smiles all looked so real, but Josephine knew better than to believe that. With the amount of photos they had in _their_ home, smiles and happiness seemingly evolving throughout their lives, no one would ever suspect that a man, who hugged his wife and daughter, perched on fluffy purple cushion could ever be a monster. How could he stand there, they thought, and smile like he really meant it, like he really loved them? Such happy families don't ever have problems, do they? The truth was; Josephine knew they could.

When she had placed the last photo on the floor, she went into the kitchen and found a damp cloth sitting in the sink alongside another half finished cup of coffee and an empty plate from Lisbon's breakfast. Making sure she had rung out all the water; she went back and began to wipe away the grey smut covering the desk. It wasn't something she hadn't done before. Back at home she had dusted and vacuumed her room once every two days because she couldn't stand the thought of it being messy. You could call it a slight obsessive compulsion disorder, but Josephine just liked to keep her room clean. Lisbon's house felt safe and as long as she felt safe she didn't care for the slight mess or cold temperature.

Yet the house felt so…lonely. There was no air of happiness here, no 'home sweet home' feel you usually got when you walked into someone's house and this generally surprised Josephine. Lisbon seemed like somebody who could not only take care of themselves but could also take care of other people..so why did it feel empty?

She sat down on the floor and put her head in both hands, closing her eyes. Life was funny. Happy childhood memories always seemed random and spotty, like snapshots taken in a scrapbook. Why you remembered some and not others was anybody's guess. Eating banana on the swings at Silver Tree Park, aiming for the bin and cheering when the peel found its target. Her mom sewing ribbon onto her snow white dress as they talked about horses. Good memories from childhood were never a steady stream – the faces you saw were always somehow obscured or a little bit hazy. But the bad memories, those were all so painfully vivid. They played like a movie in your mind, every detail crystal clear, even years later. And the seemingly most forgotten moments and exchanges that took place – moments that would otherwise never have formed a memory at all – now they, too, became part of the film reel.  
-

"_Mom, I can walk there on my own! Everyone else does."_

_She tried to grab the shopping list off the kitchen counter but her mother reached it first._

"_Josie," her mother smiled down at her and raised an eyebrow like she always did when she was trying not to laugh, "one day you'll miss our shopping trips in the car. You should be thankful that I'm actually offering to give you a lift!"_

"_Mom! Jeez…I'm telling you that I don't want one!"_

"_I'll remember this conversation, Josephine Odell, when you come to me begging for a lift into town! Right, I'll come and pick you up for about five o'clock," she said, packing up the last of her things into her purple handbag. She was wearing the necklace Josie had made for her, the one with pink beads and a big blue heart in the middle. Josie thought it brought out her eyes._

"_But its Saturday, Mom!"_

_"And don't you have an assignment to finish, Missy? I seem to remember it was the one Mrs Letterman set you because she thought you were getting slightly behind on the work."_

_Josie rolled her eyes. "Come on Mom, you know she only said that because she hates me."_

"_Well why don't you prove her wrong by doing the best you can with it?" She raised her eyebrow again._

"_Mom, jeez…five o'clock?"_

"_You heard me the first time, Missy. Besides, I need someone to help me sew up Madame Juila's hem and we both know how she can get…"_

_They both walked out of the door together, tears of laughter in their eyes.  
-_

A conversation she would never have remembered. One that should have been sorted away into the spotty, generic 'good' pile of memories. Josephine bit her lip to stop the tears that would rush out if she would only let them.

She exhaled a measured breath as she finished putting the last of the photos back onto the desk and crossed over to the window, peeping out through the net curtains. Sure enough, just like in the dramas she watched, there was the unmarked police car sitting directly opposite the house. The man inside was reading a book rested on the steering wheel but every now and then he would glance towards the house, checking to see if anything look suspicious. She couldn't stop herself from smiling a little but she felt annoyed as well. Didn't Lisbon trust her to look after herself? After all, she wasn't a threat to anybody and there wasn't anyone who was going to come looking for her…was there? She pulled her hands through her hair and blew out another slow breath.

Maybe she should just go back to bed. If something happened to her when she was asleep, at least she wouldn't remember it. She wouldn't have to think too much about what lay ahead of her…and it would be quick.

She didn't know what was happening anymore. She had nobody to talk to; no family she could ask for help and no friends who would have a shoulder to cry on. She'd never believed in vampires and ghosts and all the horrible freaks she'd seen in horror movies until she found herself living in one. Now she knew monsters did exist and even the worst things were possible. All the things people watched on TV and thought 'Gosh, I can't imagine that ever happening to me...' really could happen.

Sometimes seeing truly was needed to be believed.

She felt broken, as if she was a human who didn't work properly; as if there was something missing inside her. But, unlike the Disney movies she had watched over and over when she was a child, no knight in shining armour was going to show up on his gleaming white stallion and make everything better. She had to work it out on her own.

Alone, like always.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm still alive!  
I'm so sorry I haven't updated in ages -I needed to revise for my exams but I'm back! I've already started writing for the next chapter as well :)

This chapter was so difficult to write! I had to watch the scene in Red Badge over and over to get my bearings around Lisbon's house.

Not only that, but I had to get into Josephine's mind and walk around in her shoes for a bit '& I know I said I wanted more Jisbon but I really wanted to expand on not only Josephine's character but Lisbon's as well.

I promise to make the next chapter a Jisbon one!

All reviews are welcome and I thank everyone's who read so far and I'm sorry once again for the late update!

~victwi


	10. Caught RedHanded

_Caught Red-Handed_

"Did you really need to say that?"

"I really did.."

"No Jane, you didn't."

"Ah come on Lisbon! You expect me to just stand there and listen to him lie to your face? Please."

Alas, it was back to normal. Jane was back to his arrogant, mischievous self and it gave her something to focus on other than the mixed feelings she had for the annoying fool. The car journey had been a mixture of an awkward silence and blissful thoughts, which neither realised were running along similar tangents, but as soon as they were on the scene Lisbon resumed her role of Boss and Jane became a pain in the ass. She felt safe in her comfort zone, knowing what to do and when to do it, and if there was any trouble she could always call her team for help. She still hadn't brought up Josephine and she wanted to put off mentioning it for as long as possible…

"He wasn't even lying. It didn't have _anything_ to do with the investigation!"

She and Jane had just been over to ask the Odell's gardener, Terry, a few questions having been the only other known person to be around at the time of the murder. He claimed to have been mowing the lawn around the back of the house and he didn't see anyone leave or enter the building until the police arrived. Jane hadn't seemed interested in the questioning like he usually was when he knew something wasn't right but as she was beginning to walk towards the house Jane spotted what Terry was planting and seemed to go slightly insane, firing questions at the man left right and centre. It had taken her a full 5 minutes to drag him away, leaving a very startled Terry standing by his flowerbeds.

"'What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.'"

She stopped in her tracks and turned to give him a quizzical look.

"Are you feeling okay…because you are _more_ than welcome to go and sit in the car if you're just going to-?"

"The roses, Lisbon. Marigolds are supposed to grow_ around_ the roses."

"Jane I don't ha-"

"If a plant's smell is good, it can attract bugs, harmful bugs; however, it will need help from a companion, or good neighbour plant to prevent this. Roses draw attention to bugs like aphids; small green or black flying insects that suck the juices from the rose buds, often leaving them to die before they can bloom."

He was so close to her now she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheeks. His face was set in an expression of serious concentration like it always was whenever he was trying to explain something he thought she didn't understand.

"Marigolds, if planted thickly _around_ the rose garden, help chase aphids away. If planted correctly even though they may not keep _all_ the aphids away, they can help and they do it naturally." He gazed over the top of her head lost in thought and she watched as his eyes became mistier and mister…those stormy grey eyes. Oh, she could look into them for hours, maybe even days or weeks but these few seconds were enough…

"Jane, if I wanted to know about flowers I'd buy a book so what does this have to do with the case?"

The spell was broken and Jane shook his head slightly, making the curls on the top of his head bounce. For someone who napped so frequently in the same clothes and didn't seem to clean up for days at a time, his hair was always so perfect.

"Well, he was planting the marigold in a pot. Not around the roses. In a pot. Any _real_ gardener would know that was wrong. Pff, even _I _know that! So-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. Yes he is a real gardener, we checked his records and no I am not going to bring him in for questioning because he's planting 'some seeds in the wrong place'."

"But the marigold and the rose are plant buddies, they have to look after each other or-"

"Jane. Can we please move along?" she ordered, trying to keep the laugh out of her voice as she watched his face fall, "I need you to help me solve a case not tell me how to improve my garden."

"You have a garden?" He skipped to keep up with her as she began to walk quickly away from him across the front lawn.

"No but I wish I did. I like flowers."

"You do?" He looked away from her but she knew he was grinning to himself as he tried to imagine her tending weeds and planting pretty little roses next to each other. "You've never struck me as a 'flowery' type of person."

"Says you Mr I'll-make-myself-look-clever-by-quoting-Shakespeare. Yeah, I heard you back there."

"Wow Lisbon, I might have to stop and lie down."

"Ha! You do enough of that already without me giving you an excuse to! There are lots of things you don't know about me Patrick Jane…"

The words had meant to sound flirtatious but they weren't spoken that way and she realised the mistake too late. She didn't lower her head in embarrassment but she avoided Jane's gaze which she knew was focused on nothing but her.

"We all have secrets don't we?" he murmured, more to himself than to his college, and she smiled sadly as they reached the front steps where the officer was waiting for them. She wished they'd had this conversation in the car instead of the ongoing silence, maybe then they could have had a conversation about something other than work. The last time they'd had one was…well, she couldn't remember. With Jane fully engrossed in anything and everything Red John and herself tied down with work they never had time to 'chat', although he tended to try and start conversations off at the most inappropriate moments. Examining a dead body was one of them. These occasions summed Jane up perfectly - unpredictable and aggravating.

She casually brushed back her jacket so the officer could catch a glimpse of her badge and he gave a quick nod of his head before resuming his bored gaze into midair. Seeing as it was nearly 1 o'clock she knew he wouldn't have to wait much longer until he was switched with someone else and could go and have his lunch. She didn't pity him too much for standing around all day in fact she'd swap keeping an eye on Jane for standing around for half a day anytime. Maybe then they'd appreciate just how lucky they were..

"So, what exactly are we looking for?" His voice took her by surprise and she stopped in the foyer to take in the familiar surroundings. Some of the photos were missing from the wall above the banister and the once kept white marble floor was now covered in powder and footprints but it still looked like a home. It didn't matter what she said to Jane, she knew that he would go around doing what _he_ thought they should be doing and even though she tried to keep him under control he always found a way to get himself into trouble; be it arguing with the gardener or secretly taking something from the house. 'Do what you like' was what she wanted to say, but it wasn't her job too and it would only encourage him even more.

"We're looking for anything that could tell us the whereabouts of Mr Odell. Place names, friends, you find anything you tell me." She gave him a stern look before turning her back on him and heading towards the stairs.

"Where are _you_ going?" He had already started picking up objects and she knew he wasn't really interested; he just wanted to sound like he was so he could take a calculated guess at how long it would take her to find him.

"I'm going upstairs," she placed her hand on the banister as if to prove her point, "to take a look at the crime scene again."

"Okay…"

"Call me if you find anything." She waited until he had walked through the archway into the lounge before continuing on her way hoping that, just this once, Jane wouldn't cause any trouble. She had enough paperwork at the moment to last her a lifetime.

**...**

Silence is golden, but Jane made sure he was as loud as subtly possible for Lisbon to think he was occupied until he was sure she was up the stairs. He stopped dramatically coughing whilst opening drawers and ran to the archway, peeping around it to see if she was out of sight before heading to the opposite staircase. He wanted to look in the spare room again and take a look around Josephine's room because if anywhere in this house held answers, it was with the daughter. Children saw everything; not just little inquisitive ones but growing teenagers too. They may hide upstairs in their room hidden behind the loud music but they always seemed to notice the things which shouldn't be seen.

Carefully making sure Lisbon was still occupied in the master bedroom he turned the doorknob to the spare room and stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. The last time he had been in here he hadn't been interested in searching for evidence, he hadn't been himself. After a thorough rummage through the desk's drawers and a quick peek under the bed he knew there was nothing to be found, just as he had suspected but there was nothing wrong with checking to make sure. He sat on the bed and took out his mobile, making a split second decision on what he was about to do next.

Cho answered on the first ring.

"Kimball Cho."

"Ah Cho! I was hoping you would pick up."

"You dialled my phone Jane. Of course you knew I'd pick up."

He smiled to himself. In all his years working alongside the CBI he had met a lot of people; different ages, different cultures, different backgrounds but he had never met anyone who was more serious about their job than Cho and it made Jane proud to be his friend. He marvelled in the way he did his job but he also enjoyed trying to make him crack a smile when he was working.

"Meh, I thought you might be wrestling down the bad guys so you might not have been able to answer th-"

"What do you want, Jane?"

He knew the others, Rigsby and Van Pelt, would be watching him from their desks maybe sharing an eye roll at each other or shaking their heads impatiently as they resumed the work he had interrupted them completing.

"Could you run a full background check on the Odell's gardener?"

"The gardener…? Why him?

"Just…something's wasn't right about him when I spoke to him today. Of course, Lisbon doesn't understand the difference between a snowdrop and a weed but-"

"Jane."

"Could you just check it? Please? I know it'll only take you about 10 seconds to pull up his information and, you know, it'll give you something to do…"

"Alright, I'll see what I can find."

"Thank you!"

He snapped the phone shut with a big grin on his face, already knowing what Cho was going to find but telling them what he already knew would make it too easy for them. They had to work it out for themselves even if it did involve him giving them a little push in the right direction. His work was done in this room so it was time to go into Josephine's, which he was both excited and dreading going into. This was his daughter's bedroom and, even though he had never met her before, he was still her father. Nobody but Cho knew the connection between them and he hoped it would a long time before anybody else knew. Maybe he could avoid speaking or seeing her at all then he could make up excuses later. He was already planning them in his head.

He dashed across the hall to the door opposite, not caring whether Lisbon saw him, threw it open and sidestepped into the room so he could lean on the wall. The first thing he noticed was that the room seemed to be split down the middle; one side filled with happy memories and creativity and the other loneliness and misery. The obvious divide between the two was a large dent in the plaster right in the middle of the wall which looked like it was from an object being thrown or part of the human body being thrust into it. Leaning closer, Jane could see four rivets slightly deeper than the rest of the dent which obviously meant this was caused by somebody punching the wall with their fist. Josephine? The dent sure looked small enough for it to be a teenagers hand but looks can be deceiving…

The creative side of the room, which held Josephine's desk, bookcase and wardrobe, were all painted with patterns using the same colours as the two walls, purple and blue. He noticed that the paintbrushes were hidden under her desk alongside a small box of acrylic paints, the types you got in little wooden boxes as a gift, so he figured the patterns must all be drawn by Josephine. Spirals and words, shapes and numbers, all in different shades of purple and blue. They looked beautiful even the ones which seemed to have been done in a hurry or the abusive words written in small spiky letters, they made the room more personal.

Silvery orbs were dancing around the room and Jane slowly glanced around for their source. The sun was gleaming in through the window onto the bookcase where a pair of pom-pons lay scrunched up between the tops of the books, the slivery streamers reflecting the sun's light around the room. He suddenly found himself reaching up to take the pom-pon's off the shelf and he began running his fingers through the metallic pieces as he peered down to look at the mirror which was almost totally obscured by photos. After a quick scan Jane noted that Josephine was in only three photos with the same people, two brunette girls, and the others were all of her smiling and pulling faces with footballers or cheerleading friends. One photo which stood out most among the others was a picture of Josephine by herself; head cocked over her shoulder as if someone had just called her name, a full smile on her face. The evening sun was setting in front of her, the orange glow darkening her figure into a near silhouette but her smile shone through like a small beacon of light. It looked like cut out from a magazine.

"Jane?"

He froze, a pom-pon in each hand, and turned slowly towards the doorway attempting to make his expression more casual than sheepish. Lisbon was leaning on the door frame, eyebrows raised and a small smirk on her face which she was trying to hide.

"Lisbon! I was beginning to wonder when you would come and find me."

"Well Jane, have you found out anything that might help us to locate Mr Odell's whereabouts?"

"Yes," he smiled as her eyebrows disappeared higher into her fringe, "I have actually but I'll need to wait for Cho to get back to me."

"You're not going to let me know?"

"…Meh. You never know, I could be wrong." He knew he wasn't.

"Oh," she stepped towards him into the room, "so you thought that instead of telling me what you'd found, like I told you to do, you decided to go snooping instead?"

"I wouldn't call it snooping…"

She eyed the pom-pons he was holding as she hooked her thumbs into her pockets.

"Really.."

"Nope." He shook one of the poms in her face and she glared at him, pouting her lips. "Snooping makes me sound nasty like I'm sneaking around looking to cause trouble but I'm not, I'm just 'examining' things." To prove his point he held out a pom-pon to her, gesturing for her to take it and when she didn't he shook it nosily. "Come on Lisbon, you used to be a cheerleader didn't you?"

His question caught her off guard and he saw a look of shock cross her face but she recovered quickly and took the pom, the colourful streamers slipping through her fingers like water.

"No, I was a track runner. Cheerleading wasn't my thing in high school because I hated the girls who did it but because both my brothers were on the football team they didn't give me a hard time."

She wouldn't look at him now, her eyes fixed downwards on the pom she was fiddling with in her hands. He realised he must have opened a door into her past and her pushed her for more.

"Why would they have picked on you?"

She laughed to herself quietly. "I wasn't exactly the skinniest girl when I was younger but as I began to run more my waist went inwards and my shoulders went outwards. To me, when I looked in the mirror I saw a normal teenager but to the rest of the girls, they thought I looked more like a man because I preferred joggers and T-shirts over skirts and crop tops. I became Teresa 'LisMan' for a majority of my high school years."

"I know," she sighed when she saw the look on his face, "pathetic isn't it? You would have thought that the older we get, the more mature we become but instead we just step up the immaturity level. It just becomes violence instead."

They stood in silence for a moment listening to the sounds of the trees outside and the distant jingling of wind chimes. He could understand why the Odell's had decided to live here, far away in the middle of nowhere surrounded by nature and free to roam wherever they wanted. It reminded him of his own house, high up in the hills with the sounds of the distant sea and a perfect view of the sunrise and sunset…

"Jane, can I ask you something?"

"Mmmhm?" he tore himself away from a place which had once been happy.

"I was going to ask you this when we got back but it might save time now." She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. "Can you explain to me why the last person Marianne Odell ever spoke to on the phone before she died…was you?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **This was going to be a lot longer because I haven't written to you for so long :( but it means the next one will be up faster! *promise*

I hope you all had a lovely Christmas! 2011 this Saturday, this year has gone too fast!

Need I remind you? Please review after you've read it this, it means all the Jane smiles in the world to me...not to mention the next one will be up faster too (;

Have a lovely New Year, I'll see you in 2011!

~victwi


	11. Check Red

_Check Red_

Kimball Cho always double checked his new information even if he had followed the rules by the book or taken him well over 2 hours to finally finish, no matter how sure he was he always checked twice…especially if the information had been a tip off from Jane.

Cho had observed the troubled man's time as a consultant with the CBI from the very beginning. He quickly gained a reputation as 'the man who liked to disagree with suspects' with his never ending pile of tricks which kept the team on their toes, but Cho still knew he remained shattered inside. Everything on the outside was an act; a charade, a mask which he thought would conceal the truth from the others but they weren't as gullible as he thought they were. They knew. Sometimes they would see a darkness in his eyes or a hear quiver in his voice when but they respected him enough not to bring it up.

His thoughts drifted to the conversation in the car a couple of days ago when he and Jane had been returning from the crime scene of Marianne Odell. He felt the goose bumps slowly rising on his arms as he pictured Jane, head in hands, murmuring to himself all the way back to the office. Cho wasn't worried about Jane looking after himself, what he did outside of the office was 'personal' but seeing a grown man cry always shook something inside of Cho to the core. Men hate being seen crying especially if it's by other men, it is a known fact, unless it it's tears of joy. Tears of sadness, on the other hand, are seen to be a sign of weakness and vulnerability which a man like Jane would never let anybody see. He wouldn't even let Lisbon through the door to his past and Cho knew that the conversation in the car was something of a 'stepping stone' in Jane's life. What he didn't know was whether it was a stepping stone towards Jane opening up more or the beginning of something spiralling out of control…The more he spoke about it, the easier it would become to let go of his past and Cho knew this from his own experience. Keeping the past away was hard when ghosts kept drifting back but he found talking about it the easiest way to move on.

"Hey Cho, you got anything from what Jane said?"

Rigsby was looking at him eagerly over his own computer, itching to escape the stuffy room as much as Cho was.

"Gardener. Terry Overton."

"Wait, what! The gardener did it? Ah man, this sounds like one of those weird little British crime dramas." He cleared his throat and attempted a pathetic cockney accent. "Oi gavner. 'e did it with the shovel did'n'e?"

Cho risked a quick glance at Van Pelt who was watching Rigsby with a mixture of amusement and annoyance yet the look in her eyes said what words could not. Noticing that Cho was watching her she turned back to her computer screen with cheeks red enough to match the colour her hair, more flustered than she had been moments ago.

"I don't think so," Cho showed no sign of having witnessed Van Pelt's affection towards Rigsby which she knew he still returned, "he's been in contact with Mr Odell a couple of times and the most recent phone call was yesterday. 10 minutes long."

"A lot can happen in 10 minutes." Van Pelt cut in refusing to look at any of them, cheeks still slightly pink. "You could arrange a kidnapping in 5 minutes…maybe sweet talk someone into murder in another 5."

"Speaking from experience, are you?" Rigsby swivelled round on his chair to face her, one eyebrow cocked as he twirled his pen between two fingers. Van Pelt smirked but still didn't look over at him.

"I'm just saying that I think we should check him out…"

"Course you were…"

She looked at him playfully, lightning dancing across the room between them, but the moment was ruined when she sneezed into her hands and the midday sun sparkled on the diamond ring around her finger. Despite the slight slip in his smile, Rigsby regained his composure but not well enough. Cho could see the knife slowly sliding itself between his ribs, piercing his heart. He watched images flash across Rigsby's glazed eyes as his friend imagined his own ring wrapped proudly around her finger, the knife twisting itself ever deeper with every sparkle of diamond...

"Okay," Cho decided to put his friend out of his misery. "Rigsby, I'll call Lisbon on the way there. Van Pelt, bring up the credit card details of Terry Overton. See what you can find."

Although he chose to keep his emotions to himself, he felt the team had become something of a second family; Wayne, Lisbon, Grace, Jane. They spent so much time together not just out in the field but breaks and lunchtimes too. Cho even met up with Rigsby or Jane for a drink every now and again, sometimes sitting for hours in silence just listening to the music and chatter, their unspoken thoughts drifting in the atmosphere around them. He knew Jane especially wanted somebody else's company because even though he would never admit it, he was a very lonely man.

Cho climbed into the passenger seat beside his colleague and fastened his seatbelt with Jane's words about Red John still ringing in his ears.

_"How many more of my friends is he going to kill before we finally catch him?"_

He couldn't answer that, nobody could. They were all at risk. He just hoped, not only for the release it would give his friend, but for the sake of the team that they caught Red John soon before it was too late.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I haven't written in a while because I thought about giving this story up...so I wrote something a little shorter than usual.

I'll write every couple of months or so but I'll keep checking on the reviews (:

~victwi


	12. Cinnamon Secrets

_Cinnamon Secrets_

_"Can you explain to me why the last person Marianne Odell ever spoke to on the phone before she died…was you?  
_It felt like ice had been injected into his body. An arctic fluid was flowing quickly through his arms and feet, circulating all the way up to his head where he finally closed his eyes and shuddered. This was guilt. He was going to have to tell her everything now because she knew. Nothing got past Lisbon. Granted, his magic tricks and mind games might fool her every now and again but when it came to her work no wool could be pulled over _her_ eyes. His tongue had turned to cardboard and he swallowed to lubricate his throat knowing it made him look even more guilty through her eyes. Those chocolate brown eyes which could make him weak at the knees if he looked into them for too long. She deserved to know the truth...he was running out of time.

He took a deep breath and raised his head slowly. "I…"

A mechanic bleating noise came from her back pocket and he sighed with relief as she took out the source and held it in her hand.

"Oh no," she said when she saw him sigh with relief, "I'm not finished with you yet. I'm only just getting started." Her threatening words had a strange effect on him; they stirred something deep down, a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time as he imagined her saying those words in a different scenario, both of them wearing a lot less than they were now…

She snapped her phone shut and the sound of his own heartbeat jolted him back to the room, ashamed that he had even dared to let his mind wander that far. He saw Lisbon hesitate before she turned round and he immediately knew who had been on the other end of the phone.

"Are they on their way to pick up the gardener?" he chirped, trying to keep his voice casual. The look she gave him was all he needed for an answer, unable to suppress the Cheshire cat grin from spreading across his face. He'd been right once again.

"No"

"Yes"

"No Jane"

"Yes Lisbon"

"No Jane, it wasn't even a call from the office." She arched one eyebrow daring him to contradict her but he merely smiled and turned to leave the room. He _knew_ he was right but he'd play along anyway just to keep her smiling. He stopped and looked over his shoulder just in time to see her wiping the smirk off her face to replace it with an angry pout…which he happened to love even more.

. . .

It rarely happened but Patrick Jane had been wrong and it gave her great delight in saying that out loud. In her head that is. She didn't want to start an argument on whether he was right or not because it only aggravated her to the point of punching him in the face. She wouldn't find it so tediously annoying if he wasn't almost always right.

Not one to believe in mythical mumbo jumbo she decided it was more of a coincidence how, standing in Josephine's room, its owner had chosen to phone her. It wasn't like she knew she was going to be in there, it was just a mere coincidence. Josephine had rung her to ask if the man in the car outside her house was actually a police officer keeping an eye on her or someone she should be worrying about. On the phone she sounded a lot younger than her age and her voice seemed to tremble with worry, so much so Lisbon decided that she would tell the team she was spending the next couple of days at home to look after her. Spending time away from work was like living in a rich man's world with no money, impossible, but Lisbon knew the girl needed some company after everything she'd been through.

She could get used to living in a house like this, Lisbon thought, but until she found the money tree her father always used to talk about she could keep on dreaming. As she followed Jane down the hallway she stopped outside a small stain glass window and, through the kaleidoscope of colours, she looked into back garden. It seemed to go on and on forever; a never-ending sea of grass stretching out past the fields and trees, far beyond the horizon.

"Penny for your thoughts madam?" Jane murmured surprisingly close to her ear and she was glad he couldn't see the hairs tingling up her arms through her jacket.

"I'm wondering why I found you in Josephine's room and not outside pestering the gardener about his roses!"

"Meh, pom pons are more fun to play with."

"Oh really, so you just like to wind people up so you can get answers out of them. Do you know how much paperwork that all comes down to at the end of the day? A lot, because it ends up on my desk."

"Isn't that your job though Lisbon," she could hear the smile in his voice as she tried to walk ahead of him, "I'm only doing my job so you can do yours."

"I don't remember anything in my job description that said, 'Do you mind keeping an eye on the jackass who may give you lots of paperwork.'" There probably would have been a box to tick off because it was an exhausting job, but she would have ticked it anyway. Only she'd never in a million years think of telling him that…

They reached the balcony overlooking the foyer where the stairs curved in opposite directions, pictures leading the way down the walls. As she set her foot on the top step Lisbon found herself gazing up at the large photo of Josephine and Marianne Odell, the one the officer had caught her staring at the first time she had been here. The two of them were so beautiful, the afternoon light falling on the canvas in such a way Lisbon half expected them to move at any given moment.

It was something about the smile and the eyes which again had her mind struggling to think where she had seen them before, so piercing and bright she was surprised she couldn't remember them.

"Hey Jane!" She turned to look at him, already laughing at how ridiculous she would sound but she knew he would laugh _with_ her not _at_ her. She could always rely on that. It was one of the things she loved most about him…

"You see this photo, well I-" her words caught in her throat as he came up behind her, a big grin still plastered on his face and she knew where she had seen the portrait's features before. She saw his smile fade into a confused expression as he noticed the seriousness of her gaze. A thought pushed itself to the front of her mind, and she throttled it away because of its absurdity. There was no way _that _could possibly be true could it…? They'd both laugh about this when she showed him the comparison then they could go back to the car and drive to CBI Headquarters lost in their daydreams.

"Jane, don't you think-" she tried to keep her voice cheery and light but he cut in before she could finish.

"I rang Cho by the way and told him about our green fingered friend."

"Really…" She hated it when he interrupted her. "Well we'll see what he comes up with. Hey, don't you think that-"

"I know he'll find something because what sort of gardener would-"

"Yes Jane, the flowers. You've mentioned them. Don't you think that-?"

"I know I have but I just think-"

"Jane. Could you let me finish. Please?"

He sighed and she was surprised to see him rubbing his knuckles impatiently over and over again like he was worried. His face was paler than it was before and the cheery smile had vanished.

"I know it must be some weird coincidence but I noticed this when I first walked into the house." She gestured to the large portrait behind her wondering if he could notice how sweaty her palms were. "Don't you think Josephine looks like you? I mean, she has Marianne's nose and facial shape but she just…I don't know…what do you think?"

He wouldn't look at the portrait, his gaze fixed on a point across from where they were standing. She began to repeat what she had just said but her words faded away, turned down by an invisible radio dial. She thought the roaring in her ears was the house and everything in it collapsing on top of her but it was merely the blooding rushing around her head as her heart thudded deafeningly against her ribs. The truth hit her with such a force that she felt light headed, realisation and pain mixing together preparing to explode inside her chest any second, each new understanding bruising her painfully.

She understood why he'd wanted to go into Josephine's bedroom.

She understood why he'd been in contact with Marianne Odell.

She understood why he'd been crying in the spare bedroom.

Her insides felt like they were collapsing in on themselves, falling into each other to form one emotion; the pain of being betrayed. What did he see in Kristina Frye and Marianne Odell that he didn't see in her?

"I knew it was more than a coincidence" she whispered, her voice quaking with rage as tears began to mist her eyes.

"Lisbon, I can explain."

"Oh right." She was waiting for him to look at her; to meet her eyes and beg her to understand but he did nothing. His thoughts were more interesting than any of the answers she wanted, they always were.

"I don't even know why I'm surprised." She spoke to the side of his face, the adrenaline driving through her like an illegal drug. If she didn't walk away now she knew she would say or do something regrettable, but she didn't care.

"You say I should trust you, yet you can't even trust me. I don't even know why the hell I put up with your crap."

She turned and jogged quickly down the staircase but her movement seemed to jolt Jane out of his trance and he was quickly running after her, calling her name.

"Lisbon, wait! I can explain…"

"Bullshit Jane! It always is isn't it? Anything else you're hiding from me?" She pushed through the front doors and whirled around, nearly colliding with him as he stopped breathlessly in front of her. They were face to face and she was breathing angry breaths inches from his pale face.

"I understand that we all have secrets but when it's something to do with the case I expect you to tell me." His silent reply coaxed words to fall out her mouth before she could stop them. "Do you know anything else about Marianne Odell that we don't? Or are you just going to keep that hidden away as well?"

Why were tears threatening to spill from her eyes? She had argued with him before, countless times, and he had lied to her face on many occasions but this felt different. She had never ached like this before, crushed to the point of crying.

"What else are you hiding Jane. Do you know something about Red John? Is _he _hidden away somewhere that you're not telling us so you can watch us run around looking like 'fools' in your little game?"

The colour drained from Jane's face and he turned away from her but not before she had seen the pain in his eyes.

"Wait, no. I didn't mean it...I went too far…it's just…"

"Let me take you out."

"It just came out and…what?"

"Let me take you out. To explain everything. I'll tell you what you need to know about Marianne. I'll tell you everything you need to know about the case, heck call it a fancy interrogation if you like."

His gaze was so direct, so powerful that she felt the anger inside her extinguish itself almost at once. They looked at each other for a moment. A flush began to rise into her neck, and with it, a surging irritation. She'd grown far too used to pushing away her feelings for this man. He would not rattle her so, simply by looking at her. She wouldn't allow it.

"You nearly had me there, Jane. _Nearly_. I'm going to take you in like every other suspect and-"

"Please Lisbon. I'd have to start from the very beginning to explain it all. Please, just let me take you somewhere I can?"

Of course, she would give him no answer to that question, the smirking idiot. She noticed that the neck of his shirt was missing two of its buttons.

"You're shirt is missing some buttons," she heard herself saying, though she didn't know where such an irrational comment came from.

His mouth twitched, and his words, when he spoke, did not conceal his laughter.

"I didn't know you were so interested in my shirt, Lisbon."

Her face was hot, and his laughter was infuriating. This was absurdity, and she would put up with it no longer.

"I'm calling Hightower to tell her I'm going home," she said, and she turned to leave. In a flash he was running to block her path.

"Tomorrow night," he said.

Lisbon tried to step around him.

"I'm going home."

He blocked her path again, and this time he raised his arm in warning. Lisbon cocked her head upward and looked into his eyes.

"I'm going back home," she said, "and if I have to knock you over to do so then I will."

"I won't allow you to go," he said, "until you accept my offer."

She moved to pass him, and he moved to block her, and it was almost with relief that she felt the anger ignite through her veins.

"Why would I want to sit and talk to somebody who I can't trust, never knowing when they're telling the truth or talking utter bull-"

"I've made a plan."

"What plan?"

"Well, you're taking some time off work to look after Josephine, and I'm always up for a bit of a challenge, so I've thought of one."

Lisbon folded her arms and gave him one of her famous glares. She wanted to ask him why the hell _he_ wasn't the one looking after his own daughter yet she was curious as to where this was going. "And…"

"And…since you're so sure you cannot trust me, and I reckon you can, I reckon I'd better prove it to you."

"And exactly how are you going to do that?"

"How many days are you going to take off? Knowing you, if today is Tuesday you'll take the rest of the week off. Five days. There are five letters in trust and five letters in smile, both I want to see more of from you."

"And…"

"And, O cynical one, we're going to take it in turns to decide what to do on those days. Turn and turn about. You one day, then me the next, then you again, then…"

"I get the picture, Jane."

"Right! Shouldn't have any trouble then should you, thinking up things to do?"

"And the point of this will be?"

"You're going to see you can trust me."

"Yeah, right."

"We're going to go out of our comfort zones. We're going to see each other in new situations and new places…and you're going to find out how trustworthy I am." He was grinning, and Lisbon didn't know whether he wanted to be taken seriously or whether he was winding her up.

"You're crazy, you know that? I've known you long enough to know that your meaning of 'trust' runs in a different category to mine. Hasn't today proven that?"

"Maybe it's not as different as you think." She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, even if we don't learn anything at least it'll be fun!"

"Right. Fun. When is spending time with you _not_ fun?"

He shook his head at the tone of her voice.

"You disappoint me with your lack of enthusiasm, Lisbon, not to mention your lack of positiveness."

"Oh shut up. I know you well enough to know you can't change. You know too, if you stop being a clown for a minute."

"One question, grumpy. When was the last time you went out and enjoyed yourself?"

She pushed her hands deep into her pockets and frowned deeply. "Probably…last week…"

He tipped his head back and smiled up at the sky, making her want to both stroke and punch his face. He knew she was lying.

"Well then. Why not try these next few days? Just you and me, Jane and Lisbon. Jisbon." He let out a little laugh which sounded surprisingly sad. "Live a little."

Lisbon had no answer to that.

As if on cue, a car crunched up the driveway, its sounds breaking the eye contact between them as they both turned to distinguish its owner. Lisbon was relieved and oddly disappointed to see Cho and Rigsby sitting inside and she gave them a small wave.

"I'll stay here and tell them you're going home." Jane's voice sounded far away as she continued to watch the two passengers get out and head towards the back garden.

"See you tomorrow then. Day One of the Jisbon five."

And with that he sped off, leaving Lisbon trying to figure out whether she should cry out with frustration or jump for joy at the prospect of spending time alone with Patrick Jane.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well well, this has to be my most favourite chapter I've written (to date!) and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much.

I'm looking forward to writing chapters on the 'Five Days of Jisbon'.

I just want to say thank you to the reviewers _Mentalgal, Jisbon4ever _and _xanderseye _for reviewing, not only on my last chapter when I thought about giving up, but for writing reviews on nearly every single chapter I've written. You make every chapter worth writing, a thousand Simon Baker smiles go out to you!

That goes out to everyone who's been reading my story and added it to their Story Favourites / Alerts. If you've never reviewed before, please please do!

The next chapter I'm not sure on what to do so it would be the ideal opportunity to review!

~victwi


	13. Bittersweet Beliefs

What the hammer? What the chain?

In what furnace why thy brain?

What the anvil? What dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

_Bittersweet Beliefs_

Hightower sounded tired through the phone and Lisbon couldn't help feeling sorry for her. Plenty of cases were already underway at Headquarters but whenever Red John decided to strike everyone dropped everything. Potential suspects and fresh evidence was all abandoned for a serial killer who enjoyed playing with them yet cases close to trial, with more than enough evidence to back them up, were put on hold causing families and friends stress and grief. It broke Lisbon's heart and set her blood steaming with rage knowing Red John could make them put back everything at anytime no matter how close to ending a case they were.

Marianne's murder had confused police and profilers because her crime scene was more trivial than any of the previous Red John murders, the killer having decided to change the chronological pattern they had come to expect from any Red John case. The major details were still the same; claret smiley face on the wall and the victims brutal COD but there were never any victims left alive in the same proximity …so what had made him change his tune?

"We've managed to contact the grandmother, seems like she was holidaying in the mountains when we last tried phoning her so she couldn't take the call. Should be able to pick her up on Monday which is when you will be returning back to work, yes?"

Lisbon had explained to Hightower that she would stay off work until the end of the week to take care of Josephine and she was pleasantly surprised that her Boss had agreed so quickly.

"Yes ma'am. I'll make sure I'm in early to catch up on anything I've missed."

"Don't worry about that, Cho and Rigsby will keep you updated every day so when you return you can get right back into the field. Although you're missing a rather good chance to have a more relaxed week at work. It seems that you and Jane will be returning back at the same time...Is there anything you'd like to tell me about that?"

"I...our...Jane...I honestly had no idea he would be taking the same time off as me!" Lisbon spluttered, her voice dripping with guilt. "I know how it must look but I can assure you it-"

"A mere coincidence, I'm sure..." Hightower chimed in before the agent on the end of the phone could dig her hole any deeper, "Tell Josephine I was asking for her. I'll see you both back in on Monday." The phone clicked off, leaving Lisbon with the whining dial tone ringing in her ear. She snapped the phone shut and tucked it into her jacket pocket, digging around for her door keys. A pile of tissues fell onto the car seat along with what seemed to be an endless number of pens, way more than person needed in their bag. Her hand brushed the bottom and she grasped at what she thought was the key chain to her keys only to feel it crumble in her hands. She'd told herself she'd regret putting those dog biscuits into her bag… Trying not to scatter crumbs everywhere, she reached into one of the side pockets et voila the keys were there.

"Miss Lisbon?"

Her head whipped up and she heard her neck click. Josephine's head was peering timidly around the front door, eyes gazing anxiously into Lisbon's as a faint smile spread across her face.

"Hey Josephine, I was just looking for my keys!" She waved them in the air to prove her point. "Please call me Lisbon or Teresa. It makes me sound like you're my maid if you call me Miss!"

Locking the car behind her she made her way up the steps, her gaze never leaving the girl at the door.

"Is everything okay now? I told the officer outside to head back to the office because it was making you feel uncomfortable but you must understand that I'm just doing my job. You're in my custody so I have to protect you."

Josephine smiled. "It's okay, I just thought it might be someone impersonating a police officer so…" she dropped her gaze to the floor, shuffling her feet from one to the other, "I decided to phone you to make sure. I'm sorry if I interrupted anything." She looked into Lisbon's eyes pleadingly and for a moment, she thought the girl was going to burst into tears. "I just…I thought maybe…"

"Hey, don't worry okay? You didn't interrupt anything I was just finishing up at the scene when you called."

"At my house…"

Lisbon gazed at the scratched and bruised face knowing there was no way she could lie to her. "Yes."

They were silent for a moment and all that could be heard was the water trickling down through her neighbours drain. The rush of water was somewhat soothing, like a small river running just over the fence next to them, wanting to take them away from all the pain and confusion this world hold within it.

"Oh sorry! I'm stopping you from coming into your own house!" Josephine stepped out of the doorway and beckoned Lisbon inside. Lisbon could have stood there for a lot longer but she hurriedly wiped her feet on the doormat and headed into her front room.

"You have a really nice house, it's very…cosy." She stood awkwardly in the kitchen, watching Lisbon remove her shoes and place her handbag on the chair. She remained stock still as if one false step would cause her to be tossed out onto the street. Lisbon knew how it feet to be afraid, she'd been in her position,

"Jo, can I call you Jo?"

"Sure"

"Okay Jo, in this house I want you to do whatever you want. You're free to do whatever you want when you want. If you want to watch TV, that's fine. If you want to borrow anything, that's okay. If you want to get up at 2am and make hot chocolate, hey! I'm not going to stop you…I might even come down and join you." She let out a small laugh and watched the weight from Josephine's shoulders lift as she raised her eyes to meet Lisbon's.

"Oh so you don't believe me?" She lifted one eyebrow and pushed up the sleeves of her shirt behind her elbows. "I'll prove it to you! Follow me!"

Leading the way into the tiny kitchen she beckoned the girl to join her beside the speckled green counter which she noticed was a lot cleaner than when she had left it.

"I see someone's been doing some cleaning up?"

Josephine blushed and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I hope you don't mind, I just thought it was the least I could do for you, letting me stay here and everything you know? I can put it back if you like…"

"No, Jo!" _Hey, that rhymes_ she thought…and then felt like kicking herself. Wasn't that something _Jane_ would say?

"I'm not asking you to clean for me but this is really awesome, thank you! Please don't feel like you have to do this just because you're staying here. What's mine is yours, girl!" She froze, her hands still rubbing the clean counter. "Did I really just say that?" She turned to look at Josephine who nodded, biting her lip attempting not to laugh.

"That's a side of myself I don't normally show people! Don't tell anyone I said it okay? Not that I don't mean it but I'd lose my reputation as the 'badass Boss'" A small laugh escaped from Josephine's lips and she mimed zipping her mouth shut and tossing away the key.

"Your secret is safe with me Teresa."

She was really smiling now, cheeks forming crescent moon dimples and Lisbon felt her heart melting. Once upon a time she had been in exactly the same position this girl had; no mother, a father vanished to goodness knows where and a feeling of being left alone forever. She didn't want to watch someone else go through what she had.

"Hop up onto the counter. Go on; park your bum, like this." She pushed herself up onto the counter with one hand, "It was the first thing I did when I came into this house. Your turn. Use both hands if you need to!" She tapped the space next to her and after hesitating for a moment Josephine mirrored Lisbon's one handed spring.

"Looks like someone's an expert at sitting on counters, am I right?"

Josephine leaned back against the wooden cupboards, head turned towards Lisbon. She smiled sadly eyes suddenly falling to her hands clasped in her lap. "I only used to do it when I was alone in the house. Mum would have freaked if she saw me sitting on any of the surfaces. She was someone who used to go crazy if I brought hand picked flowers into the house!"

"How come?"

"She just…she didn't really like having anything in from outside because she had this thing about germs. Everything had to be cleaned regularly; carpets, kitchen surfaces, door handles, everything. When people came over to visit it was always a nightmare because Mom would be trying to ignore that they were walking around the house in shoes or someone had accidentally dropped food on the floor." She let out a sigh and turned to look into the evening sun, an apricot ball of light resting in-between the trees. "I loved her though, I still do, and I wonder why it hasn't hit me yet, you know? The grief. Knowing that she's never coming back. It still feels like she's gone away and any minute now she'll come knocking at the door and take me away. Is something wrong with me Teresa?"

"No," she had expected to be so loud and she saw Josephine jump, eyes widening.

"There's nothing wrong with you," she said her tone much quieter than before, "it'll come eventually even if it takes a few days or weeks. It might hit you all of a sudden or it might be a gradual process but it'll come."

"I'm scared of what I'll feel. What happens if I never feel anything, does that make me a bad person?"

"Don't worry Jo, you'll feel something. Letting go of someone we love we can't _not _feel pain even guilt, it's what makes us human and not feeling anything right now doesn't mean you're any more or less."

The candyfloss coloured clouds were disappearing into the darkness, silhouettes and shadows beginning to climb up the walls. She jumped off the counter and drew the blinds to cover the window, flicking on the light switch as she turned to face Josephine.

"If there's anything else you want to talk about, don't be afraid to ask. I know I keep saying it but I want you to treat this house any way you like. Although I might have to draw the line at having any house parties here, I don't think my Boss would be happy if she found out that an officer on her team allowed under aged teenagers to drink in her house…"

Josephine smiled. "You won't have to worry about that. I don't want to abuse what I've been given and I can't thank you enough for…" she gestured to the walls around her, "this. It must really suck having to take a stranger into your own home so I'm sorry if I get in the way. I always do."

"Don't think like that! I'll be nice having someone around, the spare room has been gathering dust for ages and it actually made me clean up around here! But I think I must have I missed the kitchen…"

"You don't have to change anything because I'm here. It's nice, cosier than where I used to live." Lisbon noticed how she had been avoiding the word 'home' but decided on getting to know her better before asking her any questions.

"It's not much but it's a roof over my head and a place to come home to at night. I know it'll always be here if I need it which is more than I can say for other things…" She drifted off realising she had said more than she had meant to but before an awkward pause could unfold she quickly changed the topic.

"I hope the clothes I brought over are okay, they're the only ones they gave me but I have some spares upstairs if you need anything."

"No no, it's cool! I don't really think I'll need any of my other clothes unless…"

"Unless?"

"Well, it doesn't matter…" she began to chew on her lip and Lisbon was worried that she would disappear back into her shell just when she was beginning to open up.

"Hey, ask me whatever it is."

Josephine took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Is there anyway I'd be able to go back to school? Tomorrow?"

Ah.

_Well you walked right into that one didn't you, _the voice in her head chimed gleefully and she felt like banging her head repeatedly against the door. This wasn't something Lisbon had an opinion on because Hightower would have to be asked first and even then she didn't think the outcome would positive. She had seen cases where children as young as 7 years old had been allowed back to their educations the very next day but they usually had a parent or guardian present to decide for them. Until Josephine's grandmother arrived she was in their care.

"It's not really my decision Jo," she said and she felt her heart sink a little when she saw Josephine begin to bite furiously at her lip again, "but I'll call Hightower and see what she says."

"I just thought going back might take my mind off things, you know? I'd love to just lock myself away and never come out again but what good is that going to do. I'll need to face the questions and stuff from everyone I know someday so why not do it sooner rather than later?"

She looked enquiringly at Lisbon but there was a smile on her face and her eyes were shining brightly almost as if she knew that Lisbon wasn't going to disagree with her. She slid off the counter and joined Lisbon in the entrance to the living room.

"I'll go to bed just incase I do go to school tomorrow. If I can't then that's okay, I don't mind staying here with you." Josephine's voice seemed to be fading internally as she reached the banister of the staircase. She ran her fingers along the wooden frame as if she were caressing a young child.

I feel safe here."

She smiled at Lisbon in an unspoken 'goodnight' and walked slowly up the stairs without a backwards glance.

Lisbon waited until she heard the creak of Josephine's footsteps in the spare room before picking up her mobile phone and moving into the kitchen. She couldn't remove the huge smile plastered on her face. Knowing that a stranger felt safe in your home was something to be proud of. She didn't want to let Josephine down. Lisbon had coped with her own mother's death by engulfing herself in school work, hobbies and looking after her brothers but was Josephine as _mentally_ strong as Lisbon had been _physically_?

"Agent Lisbon…?"

"Ma'am"

"Is everything okay? I wasn't expecting to hear from you until tomorrow."

"Yes Ma'am, Josephine is fine but I have a favour to ask…"

. . .

The United States of America.  
USA.  
_"Land of the free and home of the brave"_  
Everybody sings those words during the national anthem and he feels he sings it with the most pride. With one hand pressed firmly on his pounding heart he shouts the words to the heavens because he loves his country more than anything in the world. He is proud of the people who make it a safe place to be. He is proud of the people who make it a place to be admired. He is proud of the people who bring their country together for better, for peace. Others, however, he is ashamed of. The waters which leak from his eyes as he sings above all the others are not because he is proud. They are tears alright…tears of goddamn shame. He's ashamed of those who do not love his country as much as him and one day, like his mother, the bastards will pay for their deeds. It just takes time…

An evening shadow falls across him, a boy leaning lazily on the counter loudly scratching his money in an attempt to catch his attention. He pretends to have not heard him approach, wanting more than anything for the little prick to go away.

'Hey Mister?'

The boy taps the counter with one of his coins, the sound of it exploding in the man's head every time the copper slams into the wood. The boy isn't even banging it loudly but he feels the anger winding up inside him like a watch spring, a jack in the box ready to jump out at any moment. He snaps his black book shut and turns to face the boy, a clown like smile plastered on his face.

"Dear me, I was in a world of my own there!"

_One that involved smashing this kid like a bug_

"What can I get you, sir?"

The boy pauses, taking a look at his choices and this infuriates the man, makes his eye twitch. The little fuck has brought him out of his planning and he hasn't decided what he wants yet. He knows that he could kill this boy like _that_ but in the environment he's in and a queue beginning to form behind the boy, he can't take the risk.

"Yeah, I'll have one of those."

It sickens him to the core when they don't use manners. They cost nothing. Less than all the money in their precious purses, ignorant fucks.

"This one?" The man thinks he can coax it out of the boy, just one word which is enough to show him he hasn't misjudged him wrongly. Everyone deserves a second chance don't they?

"Yeah, that's what I said."

His throat tickles and he coughs loudly into his hanky. The boy looks at him as if he is a piece of shit stuck to his shoe and the man has to hand over the boy's purchase without grabbing him by the throat and shoving it down his gullet. His eyes shoot to the woman standing directly behind the boy, huffing impatiently at how slow the purchase is taking as she takes frequent glances at her watch. That's all everyone is when they come to him, in a rush.

He likes things in threes. _Rush rush rush_ says a voice in his head. He likes that. The voice is his head. It's his friend.

"Cheers." He is surprised the boy said thank you but that doesn't stop him glaring at the back of his head as he walks away until the woman from behind him steps forward and clears her throat.

_Red red red_ She's wearing a short red dress.

_John john john _He likes this name. Why does he like that name? His book will tell him, his little black book. It helps him remember things he's forgotten.

"Excuse me?" The woman's voice is shrill and high pitched; it feels like its burning his ears.

_Die die die_

No. He must focus. He mustn't hear the voices now because he has to hear them later. Excitement rushes through him as he thinks about the things to come, the things he has written in his black book. Mummy would die if she found out. But wait! He closes his eyes and remembers the last time he saw her, blood trickling down her forehead. A smile spreads slowly across his lips.

"What can I get you?"

Cranberry juice is a drink children enjoy and adults love their wine but he doesn't care for any of that crap. The smell of a victim's blood as it pools around them on the floor is all he ever longs for after a hard days work…but he has to be patient. A wise man once said "_The two most powerful warriors are patience and time"_ and how right he was. Nobody has any idea how much he's given up for this country he loves.

He is the most powerful warrior in the whole fucking world…but his time here is running out.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Blimey, this has been one of the hardest chapters to write! Writing Josephine was challenging because she is a character I have created so trying to channel how I envision her in my mind into words was difficult! I wanted to expand on the relationship between her and Lisbon because she is someone Lisbon can relate to and she is my key to opening a lot of doors to Lisbon's past.

I'm sorry I've been away so long, all the coursework for my subjects is due within the next two weeks so I've been trying to get it all out of the way! However at the weekends I've been dedicating my time to this and I've written a plan for each chapter that is to come. I've made it all the way to the end, many scribbled sheets later, and I cannot _wait _until you read what's to come!

The next chapter of course is the first of the 'Five Days of Jisbon'...which means I get to do what I love most, write conversations between Jane and Lisbon!

Once again, thank for all the reviews/story alerts/ story favourites. Everytime I think 'I write anything." I read your reviews and it motivates me to keep going. **Thank you.  
**I'm hoping to hit the half way mark from the chapter, 50 reviews! Half way to 100!

~victwi


	14. Starry Red Sky

_ Starry Red Sky_

The morning shadows welcomed Patrick Jane as his climbed down the stairs, rolling his arms to loosen the cramp between his shoulders having slept awkwardly for over three hours. Once again he had fallen asleep at Headquarters, an unfinished book on his chest and arms behind his head, only this time he hadn't woken to find his jacket across his legs which narrowed it down to the one person who had not been on duty last night, Teresa Lisbon. She had denied it when he confronted her, claiming it was one of the cleaners feeling sorry for the poor man who loved to sleep on the sofa all the time. The image of her face was dashed from him mind by a sudden vibration from his inside pocket but the image returned when he saw who the sender was. However, his heart sank when he read the message:

**_Hve 2 look aftr Jo. Sorry, c u Thurs. L_**

An excuse was all it was. She'd chickened out at the last minute and decided to make up a rubbish excuse not to go. There was no way he was going to believe that. And text language, bah! She knew how much it annoyed him, missing out letters and shortening words by using numbers, he just didn't understand why people did it...which was probably why she used as much non-standard grammar as she possibly could in any of her texts.

He was halfway through his returning text when a thought struck him. What if this wasn't an excuse? What if she generally could not meet him tonight because she _was _looking after Josephine? A plane flew over his head leaving white mist behind in its wake, disturbing the cloudless blue sky. His eyes followed it until it became a black spec in the distance before looking down at his phone knowing exactly what he was going to reply.

. . .

There was a knock at the door and Lisbon hurriedly threw her empty soda can into the bin as she unlocked the door.

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

Josephine scraped her feet on the doormat and walked into the living room, dropping her bag and coat on the nearby chair. Lisbon gave a wave of thanks to the officer in the car before closing the door behind her. She was back. Lisbon could breathe a sigh of relief.

"I told you it wouldn't be bad! What did you think was going to happen?"

"I thought everyone would ask me loads of questions and, like, pester me to give them details about what happened. But they didn't. They either left me alone or just told me they were sorry for what happened." Josephine slumped down into the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. "Some of them wouldn't even come near me, like they thought I might go all Jo-rage on them. It was so annoying but I understand why they did it. They don't know how I'm going to react to anything, am I going to shout and scream or run away and cry, nobody knows. It's like playing Russian roulette only I'm the gun and a simple yes or no answer is going to set me off."

"It's good that you understand,"Lisbon said sitting down in the chair opposite, "I've seen others lashing out at those who stay away or retreating into themselves because they want everything to go-"

"-back to the way it was." She finished Lisbon's sentence with a long sigh. "Yeah…I don't think closing people off is the best way to deal with it. If you open up to the right people you learn to see the world in a different way and begin to accept that what happens happens and then move on." She turned her gaze away from the ceiling and looked into Lisbon's eyes. "I've accepted that, so why don't I feel anything yet?"

"Patience girl, you might not be saying that when it sinks in. Right," she clapped her hands together and jumped to her feet, "want something to eat now or later?"

"I'll have it whenever you're have yours"

"I was planning on putting something in now but I don't mind waiting…"

"You're talking to someone with double the appetite of the average person. I sometimes wonder where the food actually goes!" She wobbled the non existent fat around her stomach. Lisbon laughed as she made her way into the kitchen knowing the sooner she got the oven heated up the quicker the food would be ready to eat. "You're not the only one girl! It's just a shame my cooking is so bad!"

Josephine picked up her bag and shook her head disappointedly, a smirk playing on her lips. "You shouldn't put yourself down, Teresa. I haven't died or gotten ill from anything you've made me have I? I think you're a much better cook than you think you are…Give me a shout if you need any help!" She tapped the top of the banister once and bounded up the stairs into her bedroom, quietly closing the door behind her. 10 minutes later, the smile had still not disappeared from Lisbon's face and showed no signs of vanishing any time soon.

Last night when Lisbon had called Hightower and summarised why Josephine wanted to go back to school, her Boss hadn't ask any questions. Instead, she gave permission for Josephine to attend school on the condition that an officer escorted her to and from the school. After a short phone call to the Headmistress, Lisbon had gone to sleep feeling pleased with herself. She was to make sure Josephine walked safely into the school and was escorted home by the assigned officer who would drive her back to the house. As soon as Lisbon had said goodbye to Hightower she raced upstairs to tell Josephine the good news and the smile on her face reminded Lisbon that her job wasn't just about catching the 'bad guys'; it was putting a smile back on the faces of those who had suffered _because _of the 'bad guys'.

This morning she had been brushing her teeth in the kitchen, giving up the bathroom for Josephine to prepare herself, when a jug of realisation was thrown over her. She was supposed to be meeting Jane today to begin the first of their 'Five Days of Jisbon'. Today. Her heart sank. There was no way she would be able to meet him today not with it being Josephine's first day back. She'd have to stay here in case anything happened at school and she wouldn't stop worrying until the girl was returned safely back to the house where Lisbon could easily keep an eye on her.

The text took less than ten seconds to compose but sending had been difficult, once again having to fight against the counter self inside her mind. She scrolled down to find his name in her address book and with every click of the button her heart sank a little more in her chest. Her thumb circled over the 'Send' button, thoughts stirring as a voice in the back of her mind purred, "_What if you don't press it?"_

'But that isn't an option, is it?' she argued, 'I'm taking valuable time off work to look after this girl who I have been given the job of looking after.'

"_But this is your chance to relax, to enjoy yourself; to meet with the man whose mystery keeps your heart wanting more."_

'I'm sure he'll understand. This may be the first break off work I've had in a while but that doesn't give me a reason to abandon the poor girl.' Before she could change her mind she slammed her thumb down on the button, sending the message out into cyber space. She threw the phone onto the sofa and slowly scraped her hair back off her face, heart sinking in disappointment but it lifted when the phone buzzed energetically between the cushions. She lunged forwards, cursing as she caught her knee on the little table, which she had been meaning to get rid of, and opened the message:

**_Nice try Lisbon! I'll come to you then. Can't get rid of me that easily! J_**

**_P.S. When are you going to start spelling properly?_**

She smiled at the last sentence thinking back to when he had told her how much he hated people shortening their words to make texts quicker to write. He was coming here? To her _house_? She glanced around the living room taking in the magazines strewn across the floor and the unwashed plates balanced in a pile in the corner. Her shoulders sagged. She would have to do yet _more_ cleaning to make an impression for someone coming to her house. Why couldn't people just accept mess, why did they have to be so picky?

And that was why, twelve hours later, Lisbon stood nervously in front of the mirror waiting for the knock at the door, living room now mess free and smelling of the jasmine and pine air freshener she had found whilst retrieving the vacuum from its cupboard. She'd told Josephine that her friend Jane was coming over for a little while but that wasn't to stop her from coming down if she needed anything. When she heard the soft tap on the door she waited a few seconds before opening it, not wanting to seem too eager.

He stood in the doorway arms laden with an assortment of objects, a cheeky smile across his face.

"Ah ha! You can open the door so that's a good sign."

"Hello to you too.."

"I brought tea and biscuits," he shook his arms and Lisbon saw that what she thought had been a cluster of objects was just a little thatched hamper and a flask, "isn't that a good enough welcome? Okay fine, good evening Lisbon. Would you care to join me outside?"

"You mean we're going to sit on my doorstep and drink tea?"

"It's a beautiful night!" He waggled his free pinkie finger energetically towards the night sky.

"But it's cold…"

"No it's not!

"Yes it is."

"No it's not!"

"Says you. You're the one holding a flask of hot tea."

"Well hurry up and I'll pour you a cup to wrap your hands around while we talk under the stars!"

"Wow," she laughed, "that's really…" she stopped herself from carrying on realising what she had just been about to say. 'Romantic'. She had actually been about to say 'romantic' even though she knew this wasn't supposed to be a date or a fairytale type evening, just a get together between two colleagues. Yes, that's what it was. That's all it would ever be…

"Cold shmold! Stick a jumper on or something. Do you need to borrow my jacket?" He then began what Lisbon thought was a funny little dance, jerking his shoulders and shaking his arms, before she realised he was attempting to take his jacket off without putting anything down. She bit her bottom lip to prevent herself from laughing but she couldn't help snickering when he finally caught her eye and saw her watching him spin in circles.

"I'll go and get a jacket from inside."

"Are you sure because I-"

"Save it. I'll be back in a second"

"Don't take too long, your tea will get cold!"

She ran into the lounge and closed the door, thinking frantically back to where she had last seen her black jacket. This was why she never cleaned up around the house because she could never remember where she had put anything when it was tidied away. In three strides she was opening the hamper at the bottom of the stairs, digging desperately around through water proofs and spare CBI jackets until at last she found it rolled up in the corner. Her brother's jacket, the one he had given her when it had become too small for him to wear.

Throughout their teenage years each one of her brothers had gone through a phase of being obsessed with the band KISS; posters covering every inch of their walls, crazy haircuts and blaring the music loud enough to make the neighbours groan. It had driven Lisbon crazy to the point of actually hiding the stereo plug so they couldn't blast out any more KISS. Lisbon liked KISS but the saying 'too much of a good thing' was really put to the test…

Out of all four of them her brother James had been the most creative, painting and drawing wherever and whenever he could on anything he could get his hands on. He was the one who had given her the jacket and it was special because on the back he had drawn and painted the four members of KISS. She remembered how jealous she had been when he had first shown it to her but now she was in awe at how perfect each brush stroke was, immaculate in comparison to a photo of the famous four. She had deemed it her 'lucky jacket' because every time she wore it to a game her team _always_ won. Right now she didn't know why luck was needed but she wanted a part of her family to be with her on this beautiful night with the man who could rattle her insides up like a cocktail shaker.

"What're you doing in there, putting on one jumper or the whole wardrobe?" Jane's voice called through the door.

"Oh hush"

"Ah good, you are still there. I was beginning to think you'd escaped out of the back window."

"The thought had crossed my mind," she said playing along with him, "but then that would only have made this visit more enjoyable for you."

"Why would your disappearance do that?"

"Because then you would get to drink all the tea."

"Oh! Very funny Lisbon, very funny…"

She smiled to herself as she pulled on the jacket and attempted to shove all the clothes littering the floor back into the hamper. So much for keeping it neat and tidy…

As she walked back over to the door she peeked through the glass and watched him pour two measured mugs of tea, wisps of warmth curling into the night air.

"So…" she said, closing the door and accepting the mug he was offering her, "what shall we talk about?" She sipped her tea innocently, knowing exactly what she _wanted_ to talk but felt rude going straight into it. Jane looked at her for a moment, eyes unmoving before his face dissolved into laughter.

"I cannot believe you just asked me that when we both know full well what you want to talk about."

"I was just being polite!"

"You were going to wait for me to answer your question before starting weren't you, no matter what my reply. I could have said that I wanted to talk about trees and you would have just changed the subject."

He was right. "That's not true!"

"Yes it is."

"Well we might as well get it out of the way then. We'll start in the present and work our way backwards?"

"As you wish…"

"Right, I'll start by asking you why-"

"Hang on, wait, stop!" Jane waved his arms around wildly, spilling nothing from the cup in his hand unlike Lisbon who jumped a foot in the air and spilled tea all over her jeans.

"Jane! What the-"

"Here, hang on," he put down his cup and rummaged around in the hamper, pulling out various packets of biscuits and multi coloured cutlery and finally a packet of red spotted napkins. She frowned at him as she took one from the packet and began to dab at the tea stain. He was lucky it hadn't gone on her jacket…

"I'm sorry, it's just you said it would be an informal interview so-"

"-I never said that! You-" She tried to protest but her words were lost under his cheery tone.

"-I thought maybe you could ask the questions and I'll answer with a mere yes or no. It'll test your skills and answer your questions without seeming all 'stick-to-the-book'-ish."

"But that means you can withhold information from me!"

"Make sure you ask the right questions then." He sipped his tea and she thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. He was enjoying this.

"Even if I did ask you the right questions there's no guaranteeing you'll tell the truth is there?"

"Now hold on a second Grumpy,"Lisbon watched as he put down his empty cup and turned so he could look her straight in the eyes. The mischievous expression on his face had evaporated to be replaced with a more serious one. He looked somewhat hurt by her words. "I didn't organise these Five Days of Jisbon just for us to have a little chat. I organised them because I wanted to gain the trust you lack so much from me and, you know what, I'm glad I did. It's morally disheartening seeing you question me all the time. I can see that over these next few days I'll have my work cut out."

"_You_ have your work cut out? Excuse me-"

"Come on, first question?"

"Fine. Is your name Patrick Jane?"

Jane gave a confident nod but she caught him rolling his eyes and she couldn't help smiling.

"Nothing wrong with giving a practise question so I can see how this'll work."

"It's not really that difficult…" she heard him mutter but she pretended not to have heard.

"Did Marianne Odell ring you the day before she died?" He nodded.

"Did you speak to her before that day, maybe a couple of days or weeks before?"

Again, a confident nod which she had expected having been shown Jane's phone records from the past 3 months by Van Pelt, most of which were to or from herself…

Now she was thinking on a whim, making up questions off the top of her head which followed similar guidelines to the way she would normally interrogate someone.

"Did you meet up with her anytime at all recently?"

He shook his head.

"Have you met up with her since she started calling you 2 months ago?"

He raised an eyebrow, curious as to why she had such a precise figure, but when he saw she wasn't going to explain he shook his head.

"Do you know why she called you from a payphone the last time you spoke and not from inside the house?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, did she say anything out of the ordinary? Maybe she sounded different, worried, scared?"

He scrunched up his face and rocked his head from side to side, lips miming a silent 'Meh', but he eventually gave a small nod.

"So she didn't give you any information at all regarding why she was worried or why she was phoning from a-"

He broke off the end of her sentence with a long sigh, eyes slowly closing as the air left his lungs and he seemed to wilt forwards, elbows resting on his knees. He shook his head.

"Okay," she drew out the last syllable, trying to think of another question to ask. Really, he had answered all there was to know about his phone calls with Marianne, apart from what they had said on the eve of her death, but how they knew each other lay in an entirely different conversation. One that they wouldn't be having tonight because, somehow, she knew it would take some time to unravel.

A sudden thought struck her. She knew where to lead the conversation but approaching it would be challenging. His stormy grey eyes were submerged in stars as he gazed sadly out into the inky black sky. She took a moment to study him, prominent jaw line arched upwards to the sky, the curls of his hair falling messily just above his collar. She fought the urge to reach out and brush her hand across his face; this man sitting on her door step, the outside of him shining in the moonlight yet the inside was filled with sadness and shadows. It made her senses burn with longing. She wanted to take away all his pain yet she was still far away from working out how. She continued to stare before realising he could be watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"You've been speaking on and off these past few months," she said pulling him back from the wonder of the stars, "did she mention anything about her husband? Places he'd been recently or people he'd brought into the house?"

He shook his head.

"Did she…mention anything about Josephine?" She tried to keep her voice casual when inside she could hear her heart screaming for her to stop.

An invisible curtain flashed over his eyes and she saw him clasp his hands tightly together in front of him. He nodded his head. She didn't need to be a body language expert to see that this was a subject he was not comfortable talking about but curiosity pushed her on. Turning away from him she traced a finger around the handle of her cup and asked, "Did you know she was suffering from domestic abuse?"

The lids of his eyes slowly closed and the tension between them was kicked up a notch, a cold shiver brushing the back of her neck. She knew what his answer was going to be. He nodded.

"I'm sorry," she said, saving the 'how' and 'why' questions for another time, "have you ever met her?" She faced him now, willing him to turn and look at her but his eyes remained closed, head bowed as if in prayer. With what looked like an enormous amount of effort, Jane shook his head. Only then did she realise she had been holding her breath in anticipation and she let it out as slowly as she could before asking the question she longed to pursue.

"Would you…like to meet her?"

"No." She flinched at the force of the word. He gave an exasperated sigh. "I came here to answer your questions about the case not to be counselled."

"I didn't mean it in that way! I'm sorry I-"

"Teresa," his voice was quiet, low and desperate, and her voice vanished at the sound of her first name. She felt her pulse quicken as he turned his gaze to meet hers, "please, not now. Another time. I promise." he whispered. She wanted to believe him but he had lied to her so many times before what made this promise any different?

"Now it's your turn to tell me something about you. Wait! Twenty questions! Yes, you've asked me questions so it's my turn now." Something inside her sank; annoyed at how quickly he could change from being a person so vulnerable and pleading to someone who sounded as if they'd just won an all expenses paid holiday. It was like speaking to two different people where Jane would put on a smile to hide the truths and secrets whenever she got too close to them. _And you're one to judge are you? It's not like you haven't got anything hidden beneath the surface is it_…

She suddenly didn't feel like talking anymore.

"It's getting late, Jane."

"Well that's not fair." He tipped his head to one side, resting his cheek on his palm.

"It is! And I'm tired…" _I'm scared of what you'll ask me because I've upset you…_

"Funny, I haven't seen you yawn once. And what have you got on tomorrow that's so important apart from our second day?"

"Don't push it Mr."

"Ten questions then!"

"Five."

"_Five_? Come on, can't I have any fun?" He rolled his eyes at the expression on her face. "Fine…five questions of yes or no." His eyes slid over to meet hers and a slow grin crept across his face. She was so glad it was dark because he couldn't see her cheeks burning. "Not scared are you?"

"Is that the first question?"

"Hmm…you hide it well but I know you are. First question, do you own more than one dress; cocktail or summer."

She stifled a laugh, taken aback by how random the question was. There was no need for her to lie. She did in fact own more than one dress…three. And she could describe the texture and place from which each one came from.

"Yes."

"If I was look in your DVD stash would romantic comedy's appear more than any other genre?"

They were her guilty pleasure. That and listening to '_Wannabe_' whenever she felt down.

"No."

"Now look who's lying. You like listening to country music in the car?"

"Yes"

"You don't like not feeling in control because it makes you feel agitated?"

She sighed. "You're guessing now..."

"Nah, I knew it was a yes anyway. You've read all of the Harry Potter books?"

Oh please, no. Even her brothers, who weren't speaking, all shared the same delight; pestering her to read the seven books ignoring the fact that she'd seen _all_ the movies because apparently that 'wasn't the same'.

"Yes…"

"Surely not. Lisbon, is that a _no_? Dumbledore would be disappointed…Your favourite colour is navy blue?"

"Yes. Haven't we passed five quest-?" He interrupted her.

"That jacket isn't yours?"

"No it's not, haven't we-" Again he interrupted her, his eyes sparkling. He knew what he wasn't going to let her stop him.

"It's your lucky jacket?"

"Funny how a lot of these aren't really questions they're just lucky guesses. My brother-"

"-gave you it and I'm guessing he painted the design on the back?"

"He did."

"Unlike many women, you're not afraid of spiders?"

"Nope."

"A hundred dollars; keep it or give it away?"

"Hey, that's not a yes or no question!"

"Rain or shine?"

"That one isn't either..."

"Blonde or brunette?"

Seeing that he wasn't going to give up anytime soon, she decided to play along. "Both."

"Roses; a bouquet or a single flower?"

"A single flower."

"Chocolate or vanilla?"

"Hmm…chocolate."

"Run or walk?"

"My job mostly _is _running," she said but she couldn't help muttering, "after you most of the time."

"Basketball or football?"

"Tie-breaker, you know I love both."

"Movie or TV series?

"Jane-"

"Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp?"

"Jane."

"I'm sorry Lisbon," he said with a smirk, "I'm not one of the options."

"_Jane!_"

"That's right Lisbon, let it all out. If you don't release the anger throttling your insides soon it's going to boil over and hurt you or you'll hurt someone else. It's driving you away from people, shattering the bond you have with your brothers and stopping you from letting anyone new into your life. Whatever's causing your fury is also causing you to drink which both angers you more and scares you because you don't want to become like your father who I think is one of the reasons you're so-"

"_Enough_."

She could feel her nostrils flaring as rage flooded her brain, unleashing adrenaline through her veins and it took all her willpower not lash out at him.

"Is this all because I suggested you meet Josephine because if I upset you, you know it was unintentional. I didn't mean it." The cup in her hand was going to shatter at any moment as her grip around the handle tightened. She uncurled her fingers and slowly placed the empty cup on the step between them, preventing any inevitable accidents. After all, breaking something would only encourage him to expand on his theory.

"I said I was sorry didn't I, but that isn't enough for you is it? You _have_ to be childish and make _me _feel bad about myself too." She stood, waiting for him to say something in return but silence was his only response.

He had built up the conversation, like he always did, put her in a good mood before smashing in a speech of true to life jargon which aggravated or upset her. He seemed to go out of his way just to vex her more than anybody else.

"Just because somebody hurts you it doesn't mean you have to return the favour. 'Two wrongs don't make a right', ever heard that saying before? Thank you for the tea." She twisted the door handle and stepped inside.

"I shouldn't have brought up your father," he said firmly, stopping her in the doorway, "but you need to talk about whatever it is getting you worked up. It'll help."

"Oh yeah?" she turned her head slightly to speak over her shoulder, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice "maybe you should take your own advice."

"Maybe I should." He was packing everything up into the hamper very slowly, avoiding eye contact but she could tell he was being honest. Silence ensued as he finished buckling up the hamper before continuing. "Now that we know where we both stand, and what we need to talk about, the next few days will be more interesting. Unlocking truths and delving into the past it'll be like a TV drama, flashbacks and cliff-hangers included."

"It won't be easy," she whispered and something in her voice made him look at her, "even you know it won't be. Some things are best left where they are so you can move forward."

"But you can't move forward if the things in the past are holding you back." His words hit her hard. "We'll meet tomorrow, at the place of your choice, and begin unlocking our trepidations." He stood up and tucked the hamper under his arm, the empty flask swinging in his other hand. "We could even make it into a game if you like; pretend we're meeting each other for the first time."

She leaned against the door and shook her head, the corners of her mouth betraying her by twitching into a smirk. "I'm looking forward to it already…"

"I'll see you tomorrow Lisbon," he said, not hearing or choosing to ignore the sarcasm in her voice, "Call me when you've decided on a place to meet."

Shadows rose and fell as he crossed into the streetlamp basking his little blue car in an orange spotlight. When he reached it he pulled open the door and threw his hamper and flask into the passenger seat. She saw him hesitate, one foot planted in the car while the other remained on the pavement as if not sure whether to get in. He suddenly turned towards her and her heart leapt, eyes gazing questioningly at him but she knew he would never be able to see them in the dim doorway. His mouth was open, conjuring up parting words, no doubt a sarcastic remark or foolish joke.

"I told you it would be a beautiful night."

With that, he gave a half smile and a little wave before getting into his car and driving off down the road, leaving Lisbon to ponder on his words as she closed the door. Indeed it had been a beautiful night but had he meant more than that…or was she making a big thing out of nothing? She folded her jacket neatly and placed it on the banister as a reminder to ring her brother, having not heard from him in a couple of months. She turned to look at the living room and the little voice in her head couldn't resist saying, "_Great, you cleaned up for nothing…"_

As she silently got ready for bed, she tried to think back to the last time she had sat down with someone and actually had a proper conversation about life and the world in general. She had kept her problems and worries to herself for so long she didn't know if she _could_ share them with somebody else. There hadn't been anyone she could trust speaking to in her life for so long; she had no parents to call up and talk to, her brothers came and went as they pleased, visiting every five or six months, and she didn't have any close friends to talk to anymore. The last time she had seen someone from her high school had been in the supermarket last year when Joe Sanders had approached her to say he had seen her on the news a couple of days before.

Maybe talking to somebody would help her wrestle with her emotions and cut down on the drink. The only thing she was scared of was telling Jane so much about her only to have nothing told in return because then she would feel angry and embarrassed. She was ready to open up some things from her past, dark memories she dared share with nobody, but if she could let him into her past why couldn't he do the same for her…?

* * *

**Author's Note: **Cripes! This chapter has been one of the most difficult to write, mainly because I wanted to keep the dialogue between these two as close to their characters as possible so I'm really sorry for the amount of speech there is in here, it's just how I picture the scene taking place in my head! And Lisbon's 'KISS' jacket is based on my Mum's brother jackets. They actually _did _have jackets that they painted KISS on (I might try and get a picture up at some point..)

Not only did we beat what I wanted to get in my reviews...we smashed it! Thank you _so _much! I want to thank Country2776 for reviewing every chapter and new reviewer Time Lady 802379 for your lovely review. Of course, everyone else who reviewed / story alerted / added this to your favourites I love you all too!

In fact, I've already written the _Third_ Day of Jisbon (I know, strangely missed out the second!) and I cannot _wait_ until you read it.  
A question though, do you mind if the chapters get longer? Or would you rather they were shorter?

Can't wait to hear what you think! Target of 70 reviews?

~victwi


	15. Claret Companion

_Claret Companion_

From behind the two way mirror Rigsby and Cho watched Terry Overton fidgeting in his seat occasionally looking around the darkened room like he had never seen coloured walls before. Just by looking at him the two agents knew this man had nothing to do with the murder or disappearance of the Odell's but he might know more than he thought he did. From the way he was gazing at the mirror in front of him, Cho was willing to bet that Terry would give them any information they wanted no matter how inconvenient. He liked it when they were like that; no arguments, lawyers or 'I'll-cut-you-a-deal's, just a concerned citizen who wanted to help.

"You want to take him or shall I?" Cho turned to partner who was looking at the old man like he was a chimp on a jungle gym.

Rigsby ignored Cho's question. He already knew he was going in there because Cho seemed too 'mean faced' to interrogate somebody who hadn't committed a crime.

"I just love it when we get the odd one who doesn't know we're back here. Isn't it great?" His smile didn't leave his face as he turned to meet Cho's neutral one and he patted his partner on the shoulder as he walked past him. "I'll go. We don't want to scare the poor guy before he's even had a chance to give us any information." The door closed behind him but he didn't miss the little grunt Cho gave him in response. He smiled to himself but then remembered he was still supposed to be a cop no matter how innocent Terry Overton was.

"Mr Overton, I'm very sorry to keep you waiting. My name's Agent Rigsby. Can I get you a drink of anything at all?"

"Oh no please don't trouble yourself. My my, I feel like I'm in one of those crime drama's my grand daughter likes watching. Just wait until I tell her about this!"

"I'd just like you to focus on the reason you're here, Mr Overton. Marianne Odell?"

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" the old man banged his knuckles nervously on the edge of the table clearly worried Rigsby was going to twist his words 'like they did in the crime dramas'. "I didn't mean I didn't care about Mrs Odell! I was just…I didn't think…"

"Its okay, Mr Overton," Rigsby decided to stop the man before he dug his hole any deeper and he was relieved when Terry stopped banging his knuckles on the table, choosing instead to clasp his hands together on the table. "Tell me how you first came to work for Mr Odell."

"It sounds so strange hearing you calling him that! Ever since I began working for him 4 years ago the first thing he says to me is, 'Terry, I don't want you calling me anything other than John, okay?' And that's what I've called him ever since." He smiled sadly to himself but quickly shook his head and straightened his back. "But you're not interested in that are you, Mr Rigsby?" He smiled knowingly and placed his hands in his lap. "It really does show you how small the world is when you begin working for the son of a student you used to teach." He smiled at Rigsby, waiting for him to stop him but he took the officer's silence as a sign for him to continue.

"I used to teach his mother, Lara Odell, a very long time ago. A bright woman she was; one who was never asking too many questions and got on with anybody and everybody. Bright girl. But her talent was wasted when she became pregnant and decided to drop out of college." He shook his head slowly. "That girl was destined for great things I tell you, a remarkable future was ahead of her but she past on all her talents to that boy. I'll never forget the day she he brought John in to show me because she looked so happy yet so sad at the same time. Lara's parents never wanted her to keep the baby but let me tell you this Mr Rigsby. Once Lara's mind was set, there wasn't any changing it, no doubt about it, and if she said she wanted that baby nobody could stop her."

"Did you know who the father was?"

"Alas," he shook his head pressing his thumbs together, "I never knew his name although I know for a fact he wasn't one of _my _students. I heard it was some fool who wanted what he couldn't get but when she gave it him he got more than he bargained for and…well, let's just say poor Johnny never got the love a child needs from their father."

Rigsby made a note on his pad to ask Van Pelt to trace the father, knowing full well it was already on her computer screen waiting from him, but he liked seeing the old man shift in his seat excitedly thinking he had given some helpful information.

"So how _did_ you come to work for John Odell?"

"Ah I am sorry Mr Rigsby, that was your original question wasn't it and I've just gone gallivanting completely off topic. Please, excuse me, and don't tell my wife because she would notbe happy!" Rigsby gave him a small smile to show he accepted the apology and would keep the secret between them.

"I gave up teaching a couple of years after Lara left and became a gardener, just planting little things here and there when people wanted me to or finding the seeds for certain flowers. It really was just a bit of fun, nothing professional but I enjoyed it." Rigsby couldn't help but notice the use of past tense Mr Overton was referring to.

"Three years ago I got a call out of the blue from a Mr Odell requesting me to work for triple my earnings as a full time gardener. At first I thought it was one of those awful crank callers and I told him not to call again. He quickly explained how his mother Lara had once been a student of mine and how she'd said brilliant things about me. I hadn't seen Lara in over 30 years so I had no idea how she could possibly have known I was a gardener but it turns out word of mouth had reached her through one of her friends and when her son asked if she knew anyone, she immediately thought of me, bless her. I've been working for John, Mr Odell, ever since."

The old man tapped his thumbs together and avoided Rigsby's gaze, choosing to examine an area of the floor next to him. There was something Terry wasn't telling him...

"What about your relationship with Marianne Odell over the past few years?"

Terry's lips quivered and the pace of his thumb tapping quickened ever so slightly.

"I used to tease my wife by saying that if I was 15 years younger she'd be just my type because she looked like my wife when we first met 25 years ago." He chuckled but this time the smile did not reach his eyes. "Marianne was a lovely woman; she wouldn't miss an opportunity to come down to the garden and tell me how beautiful it was or ask me what I was planning to plant. Sometimes, when John at work, Marianne would give me a hand because, I'll be honest with you Mr Rigsby, I never thought I'd be doing gardening full time and what with planting in such a large area at the age I am now, I forget things. Plants I should and shouldn't put together, how many times I need to water certain flowers and of course mowing the lawns every other day. Lawns being plural if you don't mind me saying. It was hard work."

So Jane had been right. Mr Overton was not a professional gardener, merely hired just because he had mown a few lawns and cleaned a few gardens. A man his age shouldn't be doing so much work alone on gardens that size, front _and_ back. Again Terry shuffled in his seat, thumbs banging rapidly together.

"Mr Overton, is there-"

"She used to bring me coffee too," Terry didn't seem to realise he had interrupted the officer but Rigsby let him carry on anyway because he had a feeling that whatever the man was hiding was gradually beginning to come to the surface. "Whenever John wasn't home she would always bring me back a fresh cup of coffee from the town after she had visited one of her customers.

"Apparently she and the man who sold it had a little routine; he would draw a flower on my cup because she told him it was for her 'flower man'. Me."

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary there, just a woman being kind enough to bring her gardener a coffee whenever she had the time…except she had only ever brought Terry coffee 'when John was at work…' just like she only ever helped Terry with the garden when 'John wasn't home…' Realisation suddenly dawned on Rigsby and he finally understood why Mr Overton wouldn't look him in the eye.

"Mr Overton, how long has John been abusing Marianne?"

He saw Terry's back stiffen as his head snapped round to face Rigsby, eyes slowly filling with tears. He took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out in one shuddering huff which lasted so long the man actually sagged in his chair. He broke eye contact with Rigsby, admitting defeat, and looked down into his lap where his hands lay limply, thumbs no longer touching.

"It began last year sometime. She came to give me my coffee and I noticed bruises and cuts on her shoulder and wrists but when I asked about them she told me she had tripped in her office.

"One evening I was getting my tools together when I heard shouts coming from one of the bedrooms. There was what sounded like a scuffle and then something smashed, one of Marianne's vases. I found the shards in the dumpster the next day," he answered hurriedly when he saw Rigsby's brow furrow.

"Then I heard what I thought was the sound of someone clapping their hands together. Just one almighty clap…only I've heard a lot of hand clapping, Mr Rigsby, and I never get shivers down my spine when I hear them."

All of a sudden the old man's face crumpled and he shook his head slowly from side to side, voice breaking as he continued to speak.

"I didn't see her for the next couple of days. Her car didn't leave the garage and I never saw her venture out of the house. She didn't offer to help me with the flowers and she didn't bring me any coffee, not that I asked her to but it was more of a routine by now so it seemed unlike her to miss it. After nearly a week she came by in the evening just as I was leaving and apologized for not visiting me. And I finally saw why she hadn't left the house."

Two tears leaked down Terry's cheeks but he didn't wipe them away and Rigsby could guess what he was going to say next.

"Her face, oh lord, her pretty face was such a mess. It took everything I had not to cry out when I saw her but I kept it together because I knew that if I said anything it would only make it harder for her. But she could probably see it in my face because she started to cry and...and…"

A single sob escaped from his mouth and he closed his eyes as more tears spilled down his cheeks. "She begged me not to tell anybody, especially the police, because she was so scared of what he might do to Josephine if they found out. He'd apparently told her that they wouldn't believe her anyway and Josephine would pay if she said anything." He was really sobbing now and as he put his head into his hands Rigsby couldn't help but sympathise. The amount of times he would have gone home after work taking one last look at the house and imagining all the possible '_what if'_s and opportunity's that could be passing him by. It was Rigsby's turn to say what the man wanted to hear, to give him the closure he needed.

"Mr Overton, not telling the police about Marianne would have made no difference to what happened to her that night. From what we can tell, she wasn't murdered by her husband so-"

"But if I had to told someone they might have been able to get out of the house, away from him and then she wouldn't have even been _in _the house in the first place." The old man was looking at Rigsby with such a desperate look in his teary eyes that the officer couldn't bring himself to look away.

"Terry, you did the right thing. That's coming from me, an officer of the law like all the ones on the shows your granddaughter watches." He was relieved to see the old man smile. "You don't know what Mr Odell would have done to Marianne or _you _for that matter if he found out you told anyone."

"You know…I never thought of it in that way," Terry whispered, "I just wish she would have found some way to leave him."

Seeing that Terry was in a better state he pushed a picture of Kristina Frye across the table. "Do you recognise this woman?"

Terry sat up in his chair to look at the photo but after a few seconds he leaned back and said, "I don't know her name but she came to the house once or twice a couple of months ago. She was never in there for more than half an hour or so."

Rigsby had heard all he needed from the man but he decided to try one last question, "Mr Overton, do you know of any places John would go if he wanted to get away for a while? A friend or family member somewhere maybe?" Rigsby tried to make the question sound as casual as possible without showing the desperation he was beginning to feel with this case. This little old man in front of him was the closest he had to breaking this case wide open.

"I don't think there is I'm afraid," was all he could say and Rigsby felt his shoulders sag with disappointment; luckily Terry was too busy wiping his nose with a hanky to notice. "Lara was killed in a car accident two years ago and I don't know that he had any other family."

"Okay, thank you very much for your time Mr Overton. The officer outside will escort you to the exit when you feel ready to leave." He stood up and gave a sympathetic smile as the old man watched him pick up his folder and make his way towards the door. His fingertips had barely grasped the handle when he heard a sharp intake of breath.

"Wait! _Wait_! Yes! There is somewhere Mr Odell would to go!" Rigsby turned to see Terry in an awkward standing position, obviously undecided as to whether he should remain seated or jump for joy at his freshly recalled information.

"There was a man who came to the house a couple of time. Scary looking he was, like the ones you see in all those action films nowadays; bulky and mean looking with tattoos running all up his arms. I knew he was trouble the moment I saw him!"

"Did you ever get a name or a location?" This time Rigsby couldn't conceal the excitement in his voice and he watched the man's eyes glaze over as he tried to summon the memory.

"All I know is that he came and went in a small blue van, I don't know that make I'm afraid, but his name was…ah…" Terry scratched at the side of his head, a glint of panic flashing briefly across his face. Rigsby realised he was holding his breath knowing he was this close to a new lead on the investigation...he could feel his heart pounding.

"Ray. _Ray Jenks! _Yes! That's the name, that's his name Mr Rigsby!" He was out of his seat clapping his hands together, a proud smile appearing on his face. "He came one day and I remember Marianne telling me how much he scared her. I hope that helps you find John and catch whoever did this…"

"You've been a great help, Terry. We'll do the best we can to catch him, I promise."

And as he shook the old man's hand and thanked him once again, he swore to himself that this was a promise he was going to keep. Not only to bring Marianne's killer to justice, or to bring the abusive son-of-a-bitch husband into questioning, but because he would love the job of calling up Terry Overton to tell him that his information had been more than helpful. He thought the man deserved at least that for helping a scared woman escape her cage over the past few years and by letting her see through her window the beauty in the world in the way he cared for her flowers.


	16. Cinnamon Tales

_Cinnamon Tales_

The house phone began to chirp and Lisbon bolted down the stairs like a school kid desperately sprinting for the bus. Only one person ever bothered to call her landline. Just knowing who it was made her jump the last three stairs and casually sweep up the phone in a dance like motion.

"What do you want Jamie?"

"Always good to hear you've missed me, Teresa."

She laughed and collapsed in between the cushions on the sofa, picking one up at random and hugging it to her chest.

"I don't hear from you in months and then you call me out of the blue? Come on, James, tell me you don't want something…" she smiled when his reply with an exasperated huff in her ear and she imagined him scratching the end of his nose like he always did when she teased him.

"Can't a brother just ring his sister for a chat anymore? Maybe I just wanted to catch up on how everything's been in sunny Sacramento, huh?"

She picked at the tassels on the pillow she was holding and chuckled quietly, "I guess he can, although I'd like to know what made you call on this precise day…"

"Well besides the fact that I actually wanted to talk to you," Lisbon couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes, "Sally and I are in town for a couple of days so I was wondering, if you're not too busy, whether you'd want to have a little get together?" She heard the smile in his voice as he finished the sentence.

"Oh, now let me look at my options; sitting around in my house watching re-runs and reading books I've already read…or a chance to see my brother and niece who I haven't seen in nearly half a year. Hmm...which one would you choose?"

"Oh I don't know, the latter I suppose…"

"See, you should'a become a cop, Jamie, observational skills like that."

Lisbon jumped off the couch and danced into the kitchen where she flicked on the kettle to boil the hot water. She suddenly felt a sudden need for a cup of coffee to snuggle down on the sofa with as she spoke to her brother, the smell and sounds would make her feel more at home than she'd felt in a while. She loved her brothers each as much as the other but James was the only one who had bothered to stay in contact with her over the past few years, growing even closer to him when Sally was born. Sweet, blue-eyed, butter-would-melt-in-her-mouth Sally who looked so much like James it made Lisbon sigh with happiness whenever she saw them. They emailed back and forth every couple of weeks but the last time she had seen them both was for Sally's 6th birthday nearly 6 months ago.

"I don't think the words 'cop' and 'Jamie' should go together in a sentence. Besides I like my job at the moment and I've no plans to change."

Her brother had been training as a high school sports coach since he had left college and what with Sally being born and his girlfriend leaving the two of them, things hadn't really been easy for him. But when the offer came up for a part-time soccer coach Jamie jumped at the chance, knowing that he needed all the experience he could get if he wanted to climb any further up the ladder. Now he had a full time job and the pay was more than he had expected so he had been treating Sally to little gifts more often than necessary but Lisbon wasn't complaining. She couldn't be more proud of him and could still remember the day he had called her after they announced he had got the job to say that, for the first time in his life he felt like he was doing something right. It had brought tears to her eyes.

"Jamie Lisbon talking sense, that just isn't right..." she heard him chuckle as she placed the phone on her shoulder so she could pour her coffee, the erotic smell of caffeine clawing at her taste buds.

"Now there's no need to be cheeky is there?" Jamie chided, "Listen, as much as I'd love to stay and bicker with you on my amount of hidden knowledge, I have to go and pick up Sally."

She felt her heart sink. "You're kidding me, right? I literally _just _poured myself a cup of coffee to have this long chat with you and you're gonna hang up on me? Great, just great."

"But if we stayed on the line and chatted for a double figured amount of hours what would we talk about while I'm over this week?"

"Oh I'm pretty sure we'd find something to talk about. The past would be a good place to start don't you think?"  
"Depends how far you plan on going and what you plan on talking about."

"Touché, dear brother. Have you been reading again lately because, as much as I love this witty banter you're coming up with, it's beginning to scare me!"

He gave a knowing throaty chuckle and Lisbon heard him moving around the house, probably searching for his car keys. "I'll tell you on…when shall I come over? Is Saturday okay with you?"

"This Saturday coming? Yep, fine by me. What time will you be here?"

The sounds of hurried scuffling and rustles were heard through the receiver as if Jamie was shredding newspapers, "Er…12? Around 12 o'clock?"

"I'll be here, ready and waiting."

"I know you will. Oh and Teresa," she heard a satisfied jingling sound as he finally found his keys and tossed them coylyin his hand, "you can tell me about your new man."

She actually spluttered, lost for words, and watched as her reflection in the mirror changed to look as if she were blowing imaginary bubbles in the air.

"Wh-what? Where the hell did that come from because I'm not-"

"Yeah sure, deny it all you want but I know there is someone." She pouted and felt her brow furrow in annoyance at being cut off. "You sound happier than I've heard you in a long time and I know it's not _just _because you've been given some time off work."

"To look after a girl who-"

"See you Saturday, Bonnie," he said in a sing-song voice using the nickname her brothers had called her as a child to wind her up and now it made her even more annoyed. Especially when he hung up.

Staring blankly at the phone for a couple more seconds she sighed and threw it into her jacket pocket, scooping up her keys and any stray cash she could find on the table in the living room. As she hurried out of the door towards her car she replayed Jamie's final words in her head and sat silently in the front seat as she tried to figure out what he had meant. Did she sound happier since she had last spoken to him six months ago? She hadn't noticed a difference in herself and nothing had changed dramatically to make her sound 'happier'. And what did he mean by "_tell me about your new man._" She didn't have a new man, and couldn't remember the last time she had had anything close to a second date let alone a long term relationship. These couple of days off work, looking after Josephine and going out with Jane, surely couldn't have made _that_ much of a difference to her behaviour let alone the sound of her voice over the phone. She shook herself and twisted the key in the ignition, feeling satisfied as the engine immediately roared to life and she felt to steering wheel shake. Her brother was just doing what he'd done since he could string a sentence of words together, messing with her head.

...

She was late thanks to the unexpected call from her brother and she could see Jane sitting patiently outside the café on one of the outdoor seats. He was also oblivious to the waitress who was glaring at him as she swept the outside of the pavement dangerously close to his feet almost hoping to give him the message that she didn't want him sat there unless he was going to buy something. She quickened her step and when he saw her he stood up quickly and positively beamed at her. Without realising she found herself smiling back and silently cursed her insides for lifting at the mere sight of him. Looking over his shoulder she saw the waitress disappear into the café convinced that he had finally moved away thanks to her close sweeping of his feet.

"Sorry I made you wait Jane; a phone call went on longer than I thought it would." She decided against telling him who it was from hoping he would merely pass it off as a message from one of the team.

"Meh, I don't mind. It's always nice to just sit outside in the sun and watch people go by in their busy lives." He smiled round at the people passing them and it was only then that she realised they were standing awkwardly in the middle of the pavement, making it difficult for people to get past them.

"You found it alright then?" she said, making her way towards the café entrance without knocking into anyone.

"I'm here aren't I?" he replied, with a little raise of his eyebrow as he opened the door for her and gestured her inside. She rolled her eyes and muttered quietly to herself, silently praying he wouldn't draw any attention to himself while they were in here but she knew that was highly unlikely.

Making her way through the maze of people, un-tucked chairs and lone prams she headed towards a small two chaired table in the corner, as far away from noise as possible and next to the window so she could look out and, as Jane had described when he was outside, 'watch people go by in their busy lives.' As she pulled out one of the chairs she turned to see if Jane had followed her, thinking he may have wandered off to talk to someone or stopped to admire a peculiar piece of décor but she was surprised to see the chair opposite her scrap back at the same time as hers as he sat down in front of her and pulled a menu out greedily.

"A new place means there's new food to be tried," he said as he quickly skimmed down the first side of the tiny menu.

"It's just a small café Jane," she chided gazing at him suspiciously as if he had just told her he'd never been to a café before, "it's not a fancy restaurant so their menu's are pretty much the same."

As she pretended to look down the menu she snuck a quick peek through her bangs and saw that Jane was looking around the café walls with a mixture of curiosity and wonder. After showing a keen interest in a collection of photos across the room he turned back to the table and smiled when he saw her eyebrow twitch upwards.

"I've never been here before," he gestured with his menu to the brightly lit ceiling, "it seems a nice little place. Welcoming, like a strange antique shop. I'm waiting for the wizened old man to come out and send me on a quest."

"Jane, it's just a café. A normal café where people come to get a drink and a bite to eat, it just has a few more odds and ends dotted around the walls and hanging from the ceiling."

"Use your imagination for once, Lisbon. It can make a day more productive."

The waitress chose that exact moment to come over and ask them what they would like to order and she couldn't help feeling relived because it prevented her from returning with an argument. They ordered their usual drinks, one tea and one dark coffee and for the few minutes it took for the waitress to bring them they sat in a dreamlike silence, Jane's gaze still roaming the ceiling full of odd objects and Lisbon's mind lost in the sea of people walking past the window. When she felt the cup of coffee being placed in front of her she tore her gaze away from the window and thanked the waitress before she turned away feeling rude for not acknowledging her when she had come over. Jane tapped his spoon lightly on the side of his cup before tipping it in her direction and taking a sip. When he had taken a measured gulp he placed it back in its saucer and folded his hands in his lap. Lisbon continued to clasp her coffee in her hands enjoying its warmth and it gave her an excuse to look at something other than Jane's expectant gaze.

"So…" she said and was surprised to hear that her voice sounded higher than she expected it to, "what shall we talk about?"

She raised her eyes and saw that he was looking at her as if she had just asked him what his name was and rolled his eyes towards the multicoloured ceiling, a long sigh escaping his lips.

"Who starts their conversations off like that without wanting to make it awkward, like yesterday when we were sat on your porch? Fine, if we have to take it in turns so be it. I'll go first to give you time to think of something to tell me."

"Well that's very considerate of you seeing as you're always one for 'ladies first' usually," she said realising all too late that there was a flirtatious edge to her words. Her hopes of him not noticing were banished when she saw him slowly raising an eyebrow at her over his teacup. She pretended to cough, hoping it would pass off as an excuse for her cheeks turning pink.

"I'll make an exception just this once, for you." He took a sip of his tea and she was relieved when the waitress came over to ask them if everything was alright because he stopped looking at her. She could feel the heat emanating from her face as she brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She picked up her cup again to keep her hands busy and stared into the russet liquid swirls, trying to prevent her mind from wandering off into absurdscenarios.

She looked up when she heard him saying her name and found two pairs of eyes watching her, the other belonging to the waitress who was trying not to look impatient as she stood with notebook and pen poised ready to take her order.

"Do you want anything to eat?" Jane asked for what she guessed was the second time.

"Oh, I'll just have the usual. Phil knows what it is." She waved at the man who had been watching her from the kitchen door in an obvious attempt to be secretive. He rolled his eyes and smiled at her dubiously before returning to the kitchen. The waitress left with a wide smile, making it obvious that her first impressions of Lisbon had elevated after seeing that she knew her boss. Lisbon was already dreading the endless number of questions Phil would ask her the next time she came into the cafe.

She realised another person closer to home was watching her with a questioning look on his own face and she fidgeted self-consciously in her seat before looking him in the eye.

"What?"

He didn't reply straight away, choosing to merely observe her with a thoughtful crease in his forehead, and, for a moment, she thought he might have zoned off but then a slow smile spread across his face and she couldn't help rolling her eyes lazily.

"Come on, what is it?"

"Nothing," he replied but the look on his face made her nervous because she had seen it before when he was hatching a plan. And Jane's plan's...never went to plan.

"I was wondering if _you'd_ ever been to this cafe before because, no offence Lisbon, this really isn't your type of place so it must have some significance to you. The way you headed immediately for the seat in the corner, the nostalgic way you look around the room every couple of minutes and, of course, a cook who knows you so well he remembers your 'usual'."

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes flicking from his left eye to his right eye as a mixture of fury and wonder filled her insides. Was she really that easy to read or did just let her guard down too easily whenever she was around him? Maybe he had just assumed she came here because of her connection with the cook and she could lie and say that everything he had just said was mere coincidence, she had chosen this table because it seemed away from eavesdroppers and was looking around the room because she liked the décor. But then how would she describe her request for 'the usual'…? There was no point in lying to Jane anyway; he would know she wasn't telling the truth. He always knew…and she didn't mind because she could trust him not to tell anyone.

"Yes," she managed to say but she lowered her eyes, "I've been here before. Quite a bit actually."

Silence fell between them but there wasn't any awkwardness about it. Jane waited for Lisbon to continue with her story and she waited for him to interrupt. Surely he didn't want to know about her past, something she didn't like delving into unless it was to reminisce the few happy times she had had with her brothers. The grey areas she chose not to remember were how she wanted to keep them but maybe it was time to let go of the past, maybe talking to somebody about it would help her move forward. But could she trust Patrick Jane with a glimpse into her past?

"When my mother died in the car crash my father decided to move out of Chicago as fast as he could. He said it brought back 'too many bad memories'. Really he just couldn't stand all the questions and sympathy people were giving him. He just wanted everything to go back to normal. So we moved but when he told my brothers and me we were moving we thought maybe just out of town or to stay with our grandparents in Iowa. Instead he moved us six states away, here to Sacramento. We left behind our home, our friends, our school and our mother's memory. Dad wanted to put as much distance between us and her as he could and, boy, did he do a good job."

She leaned back in her chair and gazed out of the window at nothing in particular, lost in her memories but Jane knew the story was only just beginning. She began biting down on her tongue with her canine tooth and it was a few minutes before she continued.

"My brothers settled in quicker than I thought they would and were already going over to other people's houses within the first week but I knew it was because they just wanted any excuse to get out of the house. Even James who was quite shy gained more popularity than he had done back home because girls found him attractive and he was funnier than he thought he was. I was the average teenager; picked on for not following the crowd and known as "James' little sister" which I didn't mind. I threw myself into sports and for a while I managed to keep my grades up so Dad wouldn't have any reason to come into school but eventually the cracks started to appear."

She stopped for a second, watching a man across the street from them trying to buy a bunch of flowers while he balanced his phone under his shoulder. She never understood why people never had their wallet already ready before they went to the damn stall? She saw Jane's reflection in the window his hands still clasped together in his lap waiting patiently for her to continue. Something in his eyes told her he wasn't listening just to find a way to laugh at her; he seemed to actually…care.

"When I wasn't doing homework or training for a race I was looking after my family. I took over my mother's role of making sure there was food in the house and doing the washing and cleaning but that was the easy part because keeping my father happy slowly became more and more difficult.

"When he wasn't stumbling home late in the early hours of the morning he was shouting at us for any given reason, he'd 'had a bad day at work' or 'his beer was too cold'. At fourteen years old it began to show in school as my grades slowly went downhill." She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, elbows resting on the table. "The only person my Dad made an exception for was James because he was the eldest and Dad expected only the best from him hoping that, one day, he would become a doctor or a lawyer and would earn enough money to 'get his old man out of this hell hole of a house.' That was my father, always thinking about nobody but himself."

A small smirk crossed her face as she huffed angrily through her nose. "You can imagine my loving father's reaction when James bravely told him how he was interested in becoming a teacher. It was the first time my father had ever raised a fist to any of us and the fact that it had been James, his favourite out of all of us, made me realise this was only just the beginning..."

Silence fell and Lisbon unclenched her fingers from around her arms knowing there would be marks to remind her of this conversation. She looked over in the direction of the kitchen and saw Phil calling for one of the waitresses as he put up two plates of food.

"Phil used to be one of Dad's friends," she said when she saw Jane following her gaze, "until one day I heard them both arguing downstairs about the way Dad was treating us and when he told Phil to leave he never set foot in our house again. The next morning my father told us that if he ever found out that we had spoken to Phil there would be serious trouble but we carried on going to his café because it was en route to our school. He told us that we could come in whenever anything was wrong at home and he would _never_ turn us away. He became a second father to us, one who actually cared about how well we did and what awards we won and we could always count on him to be there whenever we were scared or hungry. Dad gave us less and less money to pay for food and I tried my hardest to make sure we stayed out of his café as much as possible because I didn't want to feel like we were a burden to Phil, getting in the way of his work. But when I told him this he knelt down in front of me and said that we were welcome here and no matter how busy this place was there would always be a table for us to sit at."

"Ham and cheese sandwich?"

Lisbon's smiled and took her elbows off the table so the waitress knew the plate was for her and placed the other in front of Jane who seemed to have ordered some sort of panini.

"The usual," she said, gesturing with her fork to the four squares in front of her and when she saw him smile she began to stab at the salad on the side. Neither of them spoke as they ate merely savouring their food in the pleasure of one another's company. It was only as she was wiping her hands did she realised Jane had said _he _would tell _her _something but he had managed to weasel his way out of it. What surprised her was that she wasn't angry at him for turning the tables like she would have been if they were working on a case. She felt oddly relieved. Here was someone who was willing to sit down and listen to her talk about her past with no interruptions, exclamations or awkward questions; he was just listening to her and taking it all in. All of a sudden she felt a rush of gratitude towards him and she busied herself with her napkin to prevent him from seeing the sudden tears in her eyes.

When she had folded the napkin as small as she could possibly get it she sighed and threw it onto her empty plate. Her hand immediately gravitated towards her necklace where her fingers began swinging the little cross back and forth along the chain. Jane's napkin remained untouched beside him having managed to drop no crumbs and gather no panini traces around his mouth. He still hadn't said anything and was now gazing expectantly at her, waiting. She looked back over at the kitchen, fingers still playing with the little cross on her neck.

"One day I came home late from practise. Dad was already drunk when I got in but I thought he might have passed out and I'd be able to creep upstairs." She shuddered as the memory of that night became clear in her mind, a flashback she only ever dared to repeat unwillingly in her nightmares.

"He was drunk all right…but he wasn't asleep. He'd actually bothered to wait up just to ask me where the hell I'd been and accuse me with whatever dirty deed he could possibly think of. Normally I would back my way upstairs until I heard him blackout in front of the TV but this time I got mad. I yelled back at him, telling him the real reason I was late was because my watch had been stolen so I'd come straight home from the track where I'd been practising and hadn't made any detours anywhere else." She bit down on her tongue again with her canine tooth as she felt her eyes betraying her, welling up as the images of that night flashed before her. "He beat the crap out of me," she whispered, "for telling the truth."

A light rain had begun to fall and figures were hurrying all over the place with jackets and bags covering their heads having not prepared for any rain on such a nice day. The flower shop man opened a canopy above his flowers and sat back down on his stool, an amused expression playing on his face as he too watched people rushing by. Lisbon brought her gaze back within the café and followed a drop of rain all the way to the bottom of the sill before continuing.

"My father may have been a drunken mess but he knew how to cover his tracks. When he saw me coming downstairs the next morning and realised he must have gotten carried away the night before he called the school and told them I was sick, like he always did because he knew the bruises on my face would cause questions. So I stayed at home until my bruises had healed before going back to school the next week. Only this was the worst he'd ever beaten me and a cut lip and swollen eye doesn't heal quickly and when I took my younger brother's to Phil's café he went crazy saying we needed to go to the police. Of course I _wanted_ to go to the police but I was worried we'd be handed over to social services and I couldn't risk us being separated so we suffered in silence, the only thing keeping us going was each other."

"The last time my father hurt any of us was when he broke my brother's arm. I came home to find Darius in a pool of his own blood with Dad blacked out in front of the TV, metres away from where his youngest son was bleeding to death. That image of him in his chair is the last time I ever saw him alive." She tugged at her necklace and sighed through her nose. "I called James and he drove us to the hospital where we told them he had tripped during a football match but they were suspicious and James struggled to answer some of the questions about where our parents were. I skipped school and didn't go home but after a painfully awkward two days, having avoided as many questions as we could, Phil came in to pick us up. He was silent the whole way home but if the nurses could figure out what had happened, Phil sure could."

"It was dark when we pulled up to the house and Darius had fallen asleep on me but I remember Phil telling me to wait in the car while he went inside and spoke to my Dad. He was in there for about half and hour and when he came back out he was with Tommy and James too, each carrying duffel bags full of clothes and James passed two bags to Darius and me when he slid into the front seat. A few weeks later, James told me that Phil had walked straight passed my father into the house and told him and Tommy to pack an over night bag. Phil then went into the living room, where my Dad was actually awake for once, and explained how he was taking us to stay at his house until he had sorted himself out. My Dad didn't even try to stop him from taking us away but argued with Phil that he was perfectly fine. The last thing Phil said before walking out the door was, 'You nearly killed your own son so you telling me who's perfectly fine.' It was probably the last thing anyone ever said to him while he was alive because 24 hours later he was being zipped up in a body bag after being pronounced dead."

She saw Jane open his mouth to say something but she carried on talking, knowing he was only going to say he was sorry or that she shouldn't feel bad and she didn't want him to feel sorry for her.

"Of course, the police got involved after his car accident and although Phil offered to continue looking after us we were told that we had to live with our grandparents in Iowa so once again we had to say goodbye to our friends and our school only this time we were glad to leave our house, just the thought of going back there makes me shiver..." As she said this, a cold chill ran through and she gently rubbed her folded arms with her thumbs. "We stayed in Iowa for a while, James left almost as soon as he got there to go to college and when I was sure the boys could take care of themselves I left and moved back here. Grandpa thought I was crazy but he came round when I told him I wasn't going to be scared off by my father and I had enough friends here, including Phil. I moved into my little house here in Sacramento and I've been coming back to this café every week or so."

Outside the rain had stopped hammering on the window and the dark clouds had parted to reveal a white ball of light that was the sun. A little girl skipped by, dragging her father by the hand as she jumped from puddle to puddle along the pavement. He had a smile on his face as she laughed at the droplets of water hitting her face.

"I wish he hadn't died," she blurted out and was annoyed to hear her voice sounding childlike, almost desperate, "but there were times when I had wished it on him. He was my father and even though he was a violent bastard deep down I still loved him but does it make me a monster to think that I don't feel bad that he did?"

For the first time since she had started talking she looked up into Jane's face, worrying that the reason he hadn't said a word might be because she is boring him. He seemed notice the questioning pitch at the end of her sentence because he leaned forward slightly, looked her straight in the eye and said, "No Lisbon, it doesn't make you a monster." He continued to study her for a moment before looking down into his lap and fiddling with what seemed to be his napkin.

"I'm sorry," she said in a lame attempt to sound cheerful, "I've…I've said too much today. You talk about something now."

She waited for him to respond but he continued to fiddle with the napkin in his lap. To stop herself from panicking at the thought that she might have upset him she let her eyes wander aimlessly over the café, taking in the couples laughing heartily and the people sitting alone either reading the newspaper or lost in a train of thought, the latter being the ones she could relate to. Her gaze finally landed on the kitchen door where she was surprised to see Phil grinning back at her, his head tilted to one side as he leaned on the wall. Seeing that she had noticed him he gave her a small wave and pointed towards Jane mouthing, "who is _that_?' Before she could reply Jane finally shuffled in his seat and placed the napkin he had been fiddling with in front of her… only it wasn't a napkin anymore, not in the shape of one anyway. On the table now stood a perfectly folded origami swan, the corners of which he torn slightly so they looked like ruffled feathers. Lisbon's mouth was open in shock as she picked up the swan and placed it carefully in the palm of her hand. Her eyes flitted from the napkin in her hand to Jane's face where a small smile was gradually widening, clearly pleased with her reaction.

"There's nothing more for me to say today except thank you," he said his eyes following the swan as she placed it back on the table in front of her. "It took a lot of courage to do what you did today and I appreciate you telling me. I will open the curtains of my own past for you tomorrow." She was already opening her mouth to summon a weak argument but closed it when she saw him stand up and tuck his chair neatly under the table.

"This is a really nice café…cosy."

With those parting words she watched him turn and navigate his way through the chairs towards the waitress where he handed her the money for their meal. Lisbon's mouth was still slightly open at his abrupt exit but she still scowled at him from across the café because it had been _her_ idea to come here in the first place so _she _should be the one paying. He gestured for the waitress to keep the change and hurried out of the door without a backward glance, one hand tucked into his pocket as he disappeared around the corner. Lisbon turned back to the empty chair and looked down at the paper swan in front of her suddenly left with an uneasy feeling that she might have scared him away. What if he got the idea that because she had told her an important part of her past she expected him to tell her something in return which in some ways _was _what Lisbon expected him to do only now she was relieved just to have spoken out about it to someone other than the few people who already knew. Once again she found herself looking out of the window, her hand absentmindedly caressing the torn feathers on the napkin wondering whether Jane would treat her any differently tomorrow.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Will anyone even bother coming back to review I wonder, because I've been pretty bad and I apologize _profusely_ for not updating in such a long time :( Alas, exams, trying to get a job and more exams have gotten in the way of my writing since April so I have uploaded not one but_two_ chapters in the hopes of earning your forgiveness! I even made this chapter especially long for you! :)

I've always wanted Bruno Heller to focus on Lisbon's past and I decided thought it would be an ideal way for Lisbon to finally see she can trust Jane (even though she secretly already knows it) and hope he can offer her something in return. And I made it extra long for you too!

The next chapter is by far my favourite because of the amount of Jisbon it involves. I'll see how many people return to review these chapters just to see how quickly I need to update.

~victwi


	17. Little Red Whispers

When the stars threw down their spears

And water'd heaven with their tears

Did He smile His work to see?

Did He who made the lamb make thee?

_Little Red Whispers_

The humid air sucker punched Van Pelt as she stepped out of the air conditioned CBI Headquarters and headed down the stairs, her long red hair sticking to the back of her neck before she was halfway across the car park.

"Hey Grace," a kind voice said and she turned to see Jim, the officer who checked the vehicle as they went into the car park. He was a friendly man who always spoke highly of how much his son wanted to be a CBI agent just like them.

"Hi Jim! Everything okay today?" She smiled when she saw how pleased he was that she had actually stopped to talk to him.

"Oh, you know, same old people coming in but you can never be too careful," his laughter rang out across the car park and Van Pelt chuckled politely with him.

"Better to be safe than sorry. I'm just on my way over to get the boys some coffees, do you want anything?"

"That's very kind of you Grace! I'd love one thank you; milk and one sugar if you wouldn't mind."

"Of course not," she said and again he beamed at her whilst he dug around in his pockets for some spare change. He handed it over just as a car pulled up to the toll and Van Pelt took this as a cue for her to leave.

_One __coffee, __milk __with __one __sugar_, she found herself mentally repeating as she approached the little coffee cart, needing only to remember Jim's order because the team were regulars at the cart, each taking it in turns to make the short trip there and back and sometimes, usually when it was Rigsby or Jane's turn, they would return with lukewarm coffee having lost track of time talking to whoever was serving on that particular day of the week.

Today was usually Lisbon's turn to get the coffee's but because she wasn't in Van Pelt had offered to go down and she was relieved to see there was nobody already queuing.

"Well, well if it isn't Miss Grace Van Pelt," was the voice that greeted her when she reached the counter. "I haven't had the pleasure of your presence in months!"

This particular coffee cart was a family run business alternating between three different people; Alex, the youngest son, served on Van Pelt and Jane's days (and also suffered Jane's teasing because he apparently had a crush on her), Alejandro, the son in law, was a big man with colourful tattoos covering his arms and served on Rigsby and Cho's trips. Then there was George, a friend of Alex's father; a middle aged, polite man who served only on Lisbon's days. Van Pelt liked George but she would much rather talk to Alex who could barely string two words together and always made her laugh. Right now she just wanted to get the coffee's as fast as she could and get back to the office but George had other ideas.

"Do you mind me asking where Teresa is?" She heard him ask and she turned to see him beginning the first cup of coffee though she could have sworn he was moving slower than he needed to.

"She's taking a break off work," she said trying to hide the impatience in her voice, "but she'll be back next week."

George smiled down at her as he placed the first cup of coffee on the counter, marking its contents and turning to pick up a second polyester cup. "That's good to hear. She's not taking time off because the case is too difficult is she? It is a Red John one after all-"

"Lisbon never takes time off work unless she has to," she snapped and George turned to look at her from the steaming machine.

"Pardon me, Grace. I didn't mean to sound like I was being nosy. I just wanted to make sure she was okay."

_'Of course you did,'_ she thought trying not to roll her eyes but she found it hard to remain annoyed with the armoa of fresh coffee swirling in the air around her.

"I understand. She's fine, just taking time off to look after someone."

"Oh?" He placed the second cup in front of her and Van Pelt cringed under his questioning gaze. She'd probably said too much already so he wasn't getting anything else out of her except money for the four cups.

"Well tell her from me that I hope to see her back soon," he said and Van Pelt smiled in which she hoped was a reassuring way while her insides screamed at him to hurry up. She was beginning to wish that there was a queue forming behind her, maybe then he would actually put in some effort to hurry up.

"And a coffee with milk and sugar please," she remembered suddenly as he placed the third coffee on the counter, "it's for the parking officer," she explained when he eyed her questioningly.

"I see! Say, if you want to look into someone suspicious you could check out the guy across the street."

Van Pelt looked over the road at a trailer like the coffee one the signs dotted around it said it sold an assortment of treats- cookies and doughnuts by the looks of it - and there was already a small queue of people waiting eagerly at the counter.

"He's a strange one, the guy who owns it," George said and Van Pelt turned he was leaning across the counter to join her, pleased to have captured her interest.

"But, of course, his fresh food is beyond anything anyone's tasted in a long time but when they come over _here_ they say he's strange."

"Strange? In what way?" Van Pelt asked, her eyes never leaving the man across the road. He had short spiky hair and pale, almost yellow skin with piercings covering his ears.

"Well I've never been over there myself but people say he mumbles to himself and has cuts and bruises all over his knuckles. Some even say he keeps a strange book next to him which he checks every now and again..."

Van Pelt's gaze had never left the man across the road as George described him and suddenly he looked up and their eyes met briefly. She shivered.

"But this is just hearsay, George," she said unable to keep the irritation out of her voice, "has he actually threatened anyone? Assaulted anyone?"

"Not _yet_," George said lowering his voice so low she had to lean in closer in order to hear him, "when one or two people say the same thing that's a coincidence but nine or ten? You tell me, Agent." He said the word 'Agent' in such a sarcastic, menacing way that she actually took a step back from him in shock.

"Kevin Prescott is his name," he said standing up straight, returning to his normal cheery voice, "but remember to tell Teresa I said 'hello'. $4.60 please."

Stunned by his sudden change of character she told him she'd look the man up and handed him 5 dollars, telling him to keep the change. As she gathered up the four cartons in her hands and turned to walk away she looked over at Kevin's stand and saw that he was watching her, his dark eyes hooded in the shadows from the canopy hanging about the truck. With one last polite smile at George, who was also watching her, she turned and tried to walk casually away, fighting off the urge to run as fast as she could from the two strange men who eyes she could feel on her back.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Jisbon coming up next!


	18. Lava Melts Ice

_Lava Melts Ice_

According to statistics people are more likely to die in the safety of their own home rather than at work or on the road.

Patrick Jane remembered reading this from a magazine he had briefly picked up whilst he and Lisbon were waiting for a suspect but he'd placed the glossy pages back where he had found them chuckling to himself. Most people who read those sorts of magazines didn't work alongside the CBI but he still knew that for him these figures were completely bogus.

In a desperate attempt at finding an idea he had decided to go to his house for some inspiration and so far he was having none. It all came down to the cupboard under the stairs, something he hadn't opened in eight years. Being so small the cupboard was only wide enough to hold a few battered old books and some discarded old shoes but right at the very back was something that caught his eye immediately and all thoughts of worry were banished from his mind in one swift phone call.

Lisbon's phone was switched off so he left a brief message, trying to contain any excitement from showing in his voice as he gave details as to when he would pick her up. He retrieved his find from the cupboard and hurried out of the house as fast as he could not wanting remorse and exhaustion to ruin his potentially amusing day.

She was waiting for him when he arrived.

He could just make out her figure sitting on the steps to her apartment, arms casually crossed over her legs and he sighed with relief as she began to walk to towards him. The thought of walking up to her door and knocking might make it seem like this was a date, which it wasn't, but he didn't want to get any wires getting crossed on both parts.

The evening sunset offered a welcoming orange glow onto her figure and before she reached the door he leaned over and pushed it open for her. As she climbed in a soft peppermint aroma filled the car and lingered on the tip of his tongue as he started the engine.

"Warm clothes? Really Jane if you wanted it to be a surprise you could have been a little more subtle." She clicked her seatbelt into place and leaned against the window to look at him.

"Well I couldn't just let you walk out without being a little bit prepared."

"Which surprised me seeing as you are known for you surprises and secrets are you not?" He chose to ignore the double entendre choosing to reply with a question of his own on the whereabouts of Josephine.

"She asked if she could stay over at a friend's house seeing as its Saturday tomorrow so I checked with the girl's mum and she said it's fine. I trust Jo not to get herself into any trouble."

The use of the nickname surprised Jane; it was personal, sweet some might say but his confusion what was read in a different way by Lisbon when she looked across at him.

"All Josephine wants is for things do get back to normal and being cooped up in my house all day isn't going to help. Besides," she turned back to face peachy sky, "I have an officer watching the house…just in case."

Now it was Jane's turn to smile. It was the little 'just in case' precautions that made Teresa Lisbon who she was today; a damn good cop. Hell, it was a wonder she didn't have police following _him_ everywhere he went with such little trust she had in him. Then again that's what she sent Cho for…but he was more like a partner in crime than an officer of the law.

He pulled into an empty space under a street light round the corner from their destination, much to Lisbon's annoyance, and ran around the car to open the trunk.

"Why did we have to park here? Couldn't we just park in the car park like everyone else?" She climbed out of the car and joined him next to the open trunk.

"Of course we could, but where's the fun in that? Plus we don't have to pay here." He slammed the trunk and turned to face her, a wide grin on his face but it quickly faltered when he saw her looking at what he was holding in his hands.

"You have your own skates."

It was a statement not a question but the question was in her eyes when she looked at him. Suddenly worried she might chicken out he placed a hand on her shoulder and began guiding her down the street.

"I haven't used them in a long time so I've probably lost my touch. When was the last time you went ice skating?"

"I'd say a couple of years ago when I took my niece with Jamie but I only held her hand for support. If I'd known you had your own skates I wouldn't have said okay to this."

His hand was still resting on her shoulder as they walked up to the doors and he pulled away from her to open one feeling her warmth fade quickly from his fingers tips.

"I know. That's why I didn't tell you." His smile broadened when she shot him a glare and he found his hand on her shoulder again, guiding her towards the counter.

"Just because you don't like the thought of someone being better than you doesn't mean you don't have to go. Come on, I bet you're really good."

It was lucky the rink wasn't busy because they bickered at the counter for a couple of minutes over who was going to pay, much to the teengaer behind the counter's amusement. He watched the pair of them trying to speak over each other until eventually Lisbon threw up and her hands and the Jane leaned over to him with a triumphant grin on his face.

"Jane, I really didn't think you should have paid for me too. I would've quite happily have paid for myself."

"I know that but this is my 'Day of Jisbon' so it's only fair I pay."

He snuck a peek over at her as she rolled her eyes to the ceiling but he didn't miss the small curve of her lips. Maybe the elision of their names had the same affect on her as it did to him…

"Well tomorrow, whatever we're doing, _I'm _paying. You paid at the café so I had to give the waitress a huge tip, which neither she nor I minded," she added hastily as he shot her a surprised glance.

"I'll put my skates on her here," he sat down on a bench and began untying his laces, "I'll wait for you to get your skates on too. You get them from over th-"

"I've been here before Jane, remember? I need to get a locker for my bag too so I'll just meet you on the ice."

She turned on her heel and half marched towards the skate booth, black hair billowing out behind her. He guessed she still wasn't happy about him paying for her but he didn't care. There was no way he was going to let her pay for anything. He might have been brought up with 'carnies' but one of the few valuable things his father taught him was how to be a gentleman.

Surveying the rink he saw couples skating round together, parents clasping onto their child's hand whilst in the very centre of the rink a girl in a leotard pirouetted gracefully to her coach's instructions. All in all, it was busier than he first thought it was. He began tying his second skate and as he did he smiled to himself. Ice skating seemed the _perfect_ activity to instigate trust, to help and catch Lisbon if she needed it. He felt a sudden rush of childish excitement at the thought of getting to hold her hand...He looked over to where Lisbon had been strapping on her skates to find the spot empty. _Ah_ he thought as the second skate clicked into place _she must already be on the ice_. _Yes_, _there she is over_…" but his thoughts trailed away when he caught sight of her.

She was better than good. She was brilliant. If Jane hadn't known she was wearing skates he might have thought she was dancing the way she glided across the ice, a ballet dancer in disguise. His breath caught in his throat and for a moment he forgot how to swallow. He noticed she had put on a pair of pink gloves and a hat, hair flying behind her as she began to pick up speed, moving gracefully around couples holding hands and children crawling on the ice. Goosebumps rippled up his skin and he knew they have nothing to do with how low the temperature was. If anything he thought it had suddenly heated up…

_Now it's my turn…_

His gaze never leaving the pink hat he glided tentatively onto the ice. Having not skated in years he didn't want to embarrass himself by being over-confident. To calm his nerves he tried to concentrate on how cool the air felt out on the ice, cold yet refreshingly so.

She'd slowed down now maintaining an even rhythm from one foot to the other. As he skated silently behind her he couldn't help be marvel at the way her body moved, hips swaying, arms stretched out fairy-like by her sides to balance herself. He was almost disappointed when she skated over to the edge of the rink but his heart lifted when he realised she was looking for _him_ and when she saw him approaching she beamed, cheeks red from the cold and what seemed to be pure joy.

"There you are! I was beginning to think you'd gone back to the car and left me!"

Her eyes were wide, pupils shrinking rapidly as the adrenaline rushing through her calmed with each breath she took. "I'll admit it, Jane. This was _definitely_ a good idea!"

For a moment he can't speak he can only stare at the fresh-faced woman before him, eyes wide and smiling radiantly. He suddenly wished he'd brought a camera.

"And there was me thinking this would be outside your comfort zone!"

"Well, I don't have my gun and badge so it is a little out of my comfort zone."

"Let's not talk about work," he said gently taking her arm so they glided back onto the ice. At the sudden contact she turned to look at him and he quickly removed his hand, folding it behind his back instead.

"Show me what you've got."

For the next hour Jane forgot everything, the past and the future, and thought only about _now_. He showed off his spins and tricks, receiving not only applause from Lisbon but from some other skaters too, but Lisbon's was the only sound he heard. She matched him in speed so when he stole her hat she chased him round the rink for what seemed like hours until they were bent over panting in the middle to which Jane claimed her as winner and surrendered her hat. Her smile made his heart shudder. At one point he fell over and when he saw the way her face lit up he 'fell over' another two times, the pain in his knees subsiding every time she helped him up. They leaned against the edge of the rink and Lisbon began to tell him about Sally and Jamie, gesturing with her hands and giving little bursts of laughter when she visualised something only she could see in her mind.

Jane watched her from the corner of his eye. _God, she's beautiful, _he thought and inside he ached. For something had happened during this hour on the ice. Quite simply, he had fallen in love. He knew that now as they stood next to one another. Fallen in love with the Lisbon he had never seen before, not just the one he saw at work. But then, he had never really stopped, and this, he realised was something special. He suddenly didn't want to leave the ice, to move away from the position he was standing. He wanted to carry on listening to her talk for hours and hours until the sadness he saw in her eyes had disappeared entirely.

"Let's take a break," she said and he tore his gaze away from the side of her face to stare across the frozen floor towards the café.

"I wonder if they do good tea here…" She shot him a look but took his arm with a smile on her face and tugged him playfully towards the edge of the rink.

**III**

"Tell me about Marianne."

She hadn't stopped looking out of the window but Jane saw her watching him in the glass. Jane felt his mouth go dry. The question hadn't been a shock but he wasn't expecting it now, here, but if she wanted to know then he would tell her. As she turned to face him he saw curiosity and a welcome willingness to understand whatever he had to say but still he felt she would judge him when he had finished.

"Well," he began and he waited for her to lean in closer to him before continuing. "You could say it all started when I ran away from my father…"

He told her everything he had told Cho; how he had met Marianne after leaving the fair, how they had gone separate ways and she had left messages on his phone after they had met in the café. He decided to leave out precisely _when _Marianne had arranged it... He finished by telling her how, after calling him a couple of times, Marianne had rung the night before she was murdered and arranged to meet in the same café.

"Obviously she didn't want her call to be traced," he said as he drained the dregs from his cup, "she sounded worried on the phone but I never got a chance to find out what it was that was troubling her because the next day she was dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that Jane."

She had remained in the same position all through his explanation, not interrupting once yet he knew she had taken everything in. At some points she had frowned, others she had seemed genuinely upset but she hadn't uttered a single word until now.

"I just wish you would have told me all this when you first found out who the victim was. Is that why you were…why you…in the spare bedroom?"

She shuffled uncomfortably in her seat and he couldn't help a small smile as a slight blush coloured her cheeks.

"Yes. I'm sorry you had to see that but the shock of seeing her in that state…" She nodded to show she understood.

"I told Cho some of this in the car, mostly because I needed to talk to someone. And you were needed back at headquarters," he added quickly when he saw the bewildered look in her eyes at the fact he had told somebody before her. The question she really wanted to ask was on the tip of her tongue and Jane suppressed the urge to close his eyes, already dreading it.

"When was it Marianne first told you about Josephine in that café? I mean, I asked Van Pelt to pull up your phone records from the past nine months and the earliest she called you was three months ago."

His forefinger circled his thumb as he hurriedly tried to piece together his story in a way that would explain it to her but then he realised there was no point. She would find out anyway and after everything she had told him yesterday about her father he felt she deserved the truth.

"I thought you might ask that."

He wouldn't look at her, couldn't. She would soon know everything and it made him nervous being unable to predict the outcome. Why had it been easy to tell Cho yet here he was struggling to find the words to tell Lisbon? Only then did he realise it was because for the first time in years he actually _cared _what somebody thought about him. He knew Lisbon wouldn't take the information easily but he hoped she'd understand. He raised his eyes.

"You didn't find it on your records because she didn't call me on my mobile. She called me on my house phone eight years ago when Charlotte was six and Josephine was-"

"Nine."

There was an icy silence as they stared at each other and Jane leaned back in his chair watching the fury ignite in her eyes. He felt his heart hammering desperately against his ribs and it took everything he had not to walk out of there but in the end Lisbon beat him to it. She swung herself off the bench, snatched up her skates and began to walk towards the door but before he could start after her she turned and walked back to the table.

"Eight years, Jane. Eight years she's been left to live with that man. You were working with us and you didn't even say anything. You just did what you do best. Keep secrets and tell lies."

This time she did reach the door and pushed it open violently without a backward glance as words of explanation died on his lips. Moments ago it had felt cold in the ice-rink café but in a matter of seconds he felt hot and sweaty, his shirt sticking heavily to his back. With shaking fingers he quickly ripped off his skates and hurried to catch up with her, not knowing what he was going to say but with every intention of getting her to understand.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Wow.

I haven't updated in a while and I won't be surprised if I don't get many reviews. All I can say it to those of you who have added this to Story Alert, your Favourites and Author Alert I thank you. Because without you I just wouldn't have bothered updating. Yes, my final exams are coming up but it's the Easter holidays at the moment so I'm writing as fast as I can in the time I have. I originally wrote one whole chapter for this but I've split it into two parts...just to see who wants it (;

Once again, thank you to all those (new and old) who are keeping with this story. You make it all worth writing for.  
-twi


	19. Pink Compensation

_Pink Compensation_

Lisbon threw her skates onto the desk and watched the bored teenager shuffle away to collect her shoes. She grinded her teeth and resisted the urge to get out her badge. He'd sure move quicker but it wasn't worth abusing the badge over. Instead she drummed her fingers impatiently on the wooden top oblivious to the talk and laughter from the rink as she thought over everything she'd been told.

'_How could he' _was all she could think _'how could Jane find out he had another daughter and not want anything to do with her especially when she'd needed a father figure in her life?'_

The teenager returned and she snatched the shoes off the desk, hurrying towards the nearest bench. Images of her own father raced through her mind back to times before her mother had died when he was the most caring man in the world, teaching her to play baseball and the best ways to tackle her brothers as basketball. Did Josephine ever have someone like that?

She stepped out into the night and was surprised by the sudden drop in temperature which she thought impossible as she had to just come out of an ice rink. Clutching her arms around her she headed over to an empty bench nearby and sat watching her breath escape in vapoury streams.

She sensed him before she saw him in the corner of her eye.

He hovered just outside the doorway; unsure whether to venture any closer or keep his distance. She didn't know what she wanted either, she only knew that she wanted to remain calm and not look at him so as not to have a reason to raise her voice. She stood, crossed into the nearby streetlamp, peering up the road as if waiting for someone. The car park was deserted but for a few stragglers saying their hurried goodbyes. She felt him moving in the exit behind her.

"Please Lisbon," he said, "please understand."

Well, that was easily answered. She didn't.

Two of the stragglers had disappeared now, swallowed by the darkness to retrieve their ride or walk back to their warm home. She wondered if it would be worth catching a cab instead, walking away without another word.

She did not understand.

She heard him move a step closer.

"But now…now you know," he said, "I've told you everything."

She gazed up into the night sky.

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner? It's not in any of your files."

He paused. "I could," he said, "possibly, but when I first arrived at the CBI I had people asking more than enough questions as it was. I didn't want them to start prying even further into my past."

She didn't answer.

"Lisbon, I know right now you're angry, furious, from the top of your head to your toes and that I've…I've not been open with you. That's all I know at this moment although I can only slightly understand why."

She sighed sharply and spoke up to the stars. "I was warned never to trust you. Minelli told me once that you are a man of many secrets but I didn't believe him. Now," she waved her hand in the air dismissively, "I wish I had done. I can't believe I was stupid enough to even begin to trust you."

He was closer now. Standing halfway between the lamppost and the exit, mostly likely holding his skates swung over one shoulder and his eyes on her back. She focused on a point up the road. The midnight sky was inked in the city's apricot glow and she knew that far away people were going to sleep, others were committing crimes, and for some this was the beginning of a new day.

"I haven't been open enough with you," he said. "But these past few days I've tried to show you more of _me._" He paused and his breath was quiet, as if taken by the silent breeze. "I _wanted_ you to know."

And that did not soothe her anger from him. He had lied to her, yet he had wanted to tell her, only she didn't even know if she knew who _he _was anymore.

"Please Lisbon…"

"Stop it! Just stop talking to me!"

"I won't hide it anymore, Lisbon! I won't hide anything anymore!"

He wasn't leaning against the bench, skates on one shoulder. He was standing a few steps away from her, clutching his hair, skating swinging lamely at his side. His face – she would not look at his face into the eyes that could shake her to the core…She turned away, turned back to the night sky.

"I'm not going to hide it from you anymore, Lisbon." he said again, "Please. Try to understand. Put yourself in my position-"

"Don't you _dare _try and turn this on me, Jane! I'm not a suspect. I've seen how you can manipulate others but it won't work on me, not this time. You've lied to everyone from the very beginning but why didn't you tell _me_?"

"Lisbon I-"

The sound of his voice made her want to stop and cry but she knew that if she let him talk she'd cave in. Nothing could stop the words tumbling out of her mouth.

"You think it's been easy from me these past few years having to work with your 'knock out' act every single day. You know exactly what I'm talking about, the 'Hi, I'm a consultant. A crime has happened so I'm just going to leisurely walk through the entire day and figure _everything _out with no challenge what so ever and I'm going to be smug about it, 'cause I'm the consultant, and you're not!'"

Her heart was sending whispered warnings to her heart, hoping she would stop now before she said too much but her anger shoved all warnings aside.

"Do you know how frustrating it is for me, having to put up with your crap, day in day out, constantly running around after you preventing any arguments or lawyers being called in? It's _exhausting_ Jane. It wears me down each day especially if it's a tough case and, yes, your ability to read between the lines does help but the way you go about is..." she fought desperately for a word to describe him, something that would sum up the good days and the bad days, "tedious."

"You think it's been easy for me to keep such a big secret, worrying each day that Marianne will tell somebody? I didn't even tell my wife, Lisbon."

She almost couldn't breathe at the extraordinary statement. She wondered vaguely if this was how it felt to be kicked in the chest.

"I'm sorry Jane, I wouldn't have-"

"No, I'm sorry," he said, "I can't tell you how sorry. I've hated not telling you. It's pierced me every day since I began working with you and we became friends."

"We're not friends." She whispered into her scarf.

"Sorry, I didn't-"

"I'm not your friend."

"If you're not my friend then I have no friends."

"Friends don't lie," she said.

"Friends try to understand. How could I have become your friend without lying? How many more questions could I face without seeing the look in people's eyes? What would you have done differently, Lisbon, if this were you and your secret? Hidden yourself away with the risk of losing your friends and your job…your mind?"

He stopped for a moment, his voice rough and choked, and Lisbon fought against her instinct to run over and crush herself against him. The swirls of anger had ebbed away only to be replaced by a quarry of guilt. She felt tears in her eyes again and she grasped at something to say.

"I think I'd better be going now, it's getting late."

"We only have two days left," he whispered softly, "one after tomorrow."

"I'll catch a cab back to my house it's-"

"Will you turn around," he said, "so I can see you while you speak?"

"Are you going to reveal anything else I don't know about you?"

"No, I'd just like to see you, Lisbon. That's all"

His voice was soft and sorry. He was sorry about all of this, sorry for hiding his secret. His secret that she knew he had a right to hide and that would have driven her away had he told her of it at the beginning. She turned to face him.

His face, his shoulders, his arms sagged. Every part of him sagged. He was unhappy. He was looking down at his feet but as she turned he raised his head and his brown eyes met her blue ones and they didn't look away. For a moment they were caught in an awkward sort of staring glance and then he did the most amazing thing, something that made Lisbon's insides quiver. When he looked away, he smiled.

"You look cold." She was freezing without the adrenaline flooding through her anymore. "It's too late to catch a cab, I'll drive you home."

Before she had a chance to argue he was walking over to her and against her protests he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. The warmth flooded her back and pulling it closer she breathed in his scent, shivering slightly as he touched the small of her back to guide her in the direction of the car.

They walked in silence, his hand never leaving her back, their shadows rolling out beneath them as they past streetlight after streetlight. It wasn't until they had reached the car that Jane decided to break the silence.

"I truly am sorry, Teresa."

He broke away from her to unlock the trunk and immediately she felt his warmth ebbing away. She clutched the jacket closer and watched as he put his skates into the trunk and closed it without looking at her.

"I should have told you sooner. If working with you has taught me anything it's that secrets don't stay hidden forever." He breathed a heavy sigh before turning to face her.

"If there was-"

"It's fine Jane." She took a step closer to him and his gaze made her feel nervous, hanging onto her every word like a forbidden riddle. "If anyone should apologise it should be me."

A cold breeze whipped through the night and she abandoned the cuff of the jacket to brush her hair out of her eyes. He must have seen her shivering because he came round to her side of the car and opened the door.

"You don't owe me anything whatsoever, Teresa. Get in before you freeze."

"No, hear me out first."

He gave an exasperated sigh and closed his eyes but Lisbon knew this was only because he thought she was going to argue with him again. She took a step closer, closing the gap between them, and he leaned back against the car looking up into the night sky, waiting.

"I had no right to judge and I should never have jumped to conclusions without hearing the full story. If working with you has taught _me_ anything," she said, echoing his words from earlier, "it's that secrets are hidden for a reason. You have to listen to what isn't said rather than what is."

She looked away when he brought his head down knowing if she saw his face she wouldn't be able to continue.

"My father was there all the way through our lives and before the drink drove him crazy he was always there for us. I wouldn't be the person I am without him. I thought you heard about Josephine and decided to run. I never…" she swallowed and clutched childishly at the jacket.

"I didn't even consider the fact that you have your _own_ family to look out for."

Her voice faded into a hushed whisper and as she stared up into the speckled sky she felt a wave of guilt wash over her. Before either of them could say another word she slid past him into the passenger seat and closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to sink into the leather seat and disappear.

It took a lot to make Teresa Lisbon feel guilty but when she did it ate her alive. She couldn't believe how childishly she'd acted, knowing full well Jane had every right to keep personal secrets from her. Hell, she had some of her own but, once again, she'd let the work get in the way and her police alter ego get the better of her.

Jane climbed in beside her and she waited for him to confirm the worst; that she had ruined their friendship forever.

"Looks like the 'Five Days of Jisbon' aren't turning out at well as I'd hoped."

The engine spluttered into life, masking her slight cough of surprise at his words. She snapped her seatbelt into place before returning to gaze out of the window.

"I seem to remember myself saying these days were supposed to be about trust but it looks like we've come closer to trusting each other than Cho is to taking up gardening."

His attempt to make the conversation more 'normal' made her want to hug him but she saw the truth in his words and settled for a small smile instead.

"That's true"

"But even though we've gone about it in our own way, we've found out more about each other. That has to count for something right?"

"Of course," she said but because she was trying not to smile the sarcasm she had hoped for didn't have any effect.

"So tomorrow it's your turn to decide what to do and it can be anything, even-"

"Wait, you still want to carry on?"

They pulled up next to her house and Jane cut the engine, leaving them in an open silence. Lisbon wasn't sure what had made her ask but she was still surprised that he wanted to see her after all she had said to him.

"Why wouldn't I want to carry on?" He half laughed out the words and she had to bite down on the inside of her mouth to stop herself from grinning like an idiot. "Only this time I hope it'll end a little more optimistically."

She stepped out of the car and only then did she realise she was still wearing his jacket. Slipping it off she folded it neatly and placed it on the front seat continuing to speak whilst doing so.

"Well, thank you for tonight. I really enjoyed myself even though it ended a little badly. We can add ice-skating to the list of your many talents." She closed the door and he quickly wound the window down so he could reply.

"I didn't know we were making a list. I assure you there are more talents I have which you don't know about…"

"I look forward to the list growing," she laughed and, tucking her hands into the back of her jeans, she gave him one last parting smile and turned in the direction of her house.

"Lisbon."

His voice had suddenly dropped to a more serious tone and she hurried quickly back over to the car.

"Yes?"

He was looking at her intensely; mouth hanging slightly open as if seeing her for the first time in decades and his eyes flickered all over her face. He leaned towards her slightly and she felt a surge of emotion in her chest, blood rushing to her cheeks.

"Ask me a question. Anything. I promise I'll answer it truthfully. Anything at all."

She was breathing a lot quicker and the questions coming to her head reminded her of the sappy romance novels her brother's always teased her for reading. She cleared her throat and tried to think logically. After all the anger and sadness they'd been talking about these past few days she decided to ask something more uplifting.

"Tell me something you think is amazing."

"Amazing?"

"Yes something amazing. Come on Mr Clique, something 'out of this world'."

"Okay." He hesitated for a moment, holding her gaze for a little longer before he broke away to look up at the sky. "I'll say the stars."

She gave him a sceptical look. "Not literally 'out of this world', I meant…"

"I know what you meant but I'm still saying the stars. Look at them," he gestured at the stars and she twisted her head to look up at the midnight sky.

He was right of course.

If the street lights were all turned off their natural beauty would shine down upon the street brighter than any lamppost could. Sadly it seemed people had forgotten about the stars, choosing instead to draw their curtains, closing off the wonders through their window.

She was so lost in the moment that she didn't notice him looking at her until he cleared his throat. Instantly she jumped away from the door and folded her arms, blushing.

"I'll take that an agreement to my question," he smirked, "I'll see you tomorrow for our fourth day?"

"Yeah," she tucked her hands into her back pockets again, "I'll text you when I've figured out what we're going to do."

"Okay. I'll be waiting."

She hurried up the steps into her house and turned in the doorway to watch him driving off down the street suddenly aware that the sight of him leaving left her with a heavy heart, one which sunk lower and lower at thought of spending the night by herself. Alone.

* * *

**Author** **Note**: No more exams *angels sing* so let the regular chapter updates BEGIN! _  
_

26 reviews until 100. I just- I cannot thank you enough! Everyone who has review/story alerted/favourited this story. It keeps me motivated to write the next chapter. Hope you liked this one (Jisbon, eeeee~) let me know what you think!


	20. Light Red Crayon Hearts

_Light Red Crayon Hearts_

They had reached a dead end when Cho got the call.

After visiting Kristina Frye, Cho and Rigsby found she had a solid alibi for the night of Marianne Odell's murder, witnesses of the surrounding houses all giving the same statement - she only ever ventured out in a zombie like state to stand stock still on the front lawn staring straight ahead into nothing. This Cho could believe because when they interviewed her she was still wearing the vacant expression on her face as she floated around the house and presented them with tea which was so watery they might as well have just asked for a cup of milk.

The only worthwhile piece of evidence they managed to gain was that she had lost her phone a couple of months ago and hadn't bought a new one since merely putting it down to sheer clumsiness. They left in silence unsure of how to feel; relieved that they could whittle down their suspect list yet oddly shaken by how quickly someone could change in a matter of months…

It was as soon as Cho sat back down at his desk that he got the call and the others could see that it was important as he frantically scribbled on a little paper pad he had in front of him, making small grunts to show he understood before thanking the person and slamming the phone down.

"Mr Odell's body has just been found," he quickly told Van Pelt and Risgby, already hurriedly putting on his jacket, "about 10 miles from his house. Officers who searched the body have found Kristina Frye's mobile in his jacket pocket, SIM and battery discarded."

"I wondered why we couldn't trace its location," Rigsby said securing his gun, "seems unusual for a lost phone to suddenly become untraceable."

"Exactly," said Cho, "Odell's body has exactly the same COD as any other Red John victim only this time he had no wall to draw his smiley on. Apparently he's left a white sheet and-"

"So Red John moved the body?"

Van Pelt, who had been silently observing the pair as they prepared to leave, rose to her feet and leaned back on the table. It's a question which has crossed through all of their minds, one which they all knew the answer to but one which leaves a short silence.

"Yes." Rigsby's gaze slid over to lock with Van Pelt and she saw his expression was as confused as her own. _Why the hell would he change his MO? Why now? _

Cho remained silent striding past Van Pelt like he hasn't heard her with Rigsby's heavy footsteps following behind him. There was nothing but silence in the lift down as their thoughts ran along similar tangents. Neither wanted to ask questions until they reached the crime scene and had seen the evidence which might give them some answers. Both of them knew how unlikely that was, especially when it came to Red John. If there was any evidence left behind it was only there because Red John _wanted_ it to be found.

"You gonna call Lisbon?" Rigsby said when they were fifteen minutes away from the crime scene and he let out a sigh, one similar to when he was trying to convince Jane not to do something stupid even though they knew he'd do it anyway.

Cho waited a beat before turning Rigsby and saying, "I'd rather be the one to tell Lisbon than the one who has to tell Patrick that Red John's decided to play a different game."

Rigsby turned back to stare out of the front window, his head bobbing slightly in agreement. They drove the rest of the way in silence.

…

Tidy. Teresa Lisbon did not do tidy.

Sure, she could tidy up her paperwork when it needed doing and she could tell the others to keep the bullpen and the kitchen at the Headquarters presentable but at home she was still the "messy pup" her Mother had always said she was. Today she had to _really_ tidy the house which meant not just piling plates and magazines into a corner, oh no, full on vacuuming, dusting and spritzing a little Airwick here and there. Picking up the last stray piece of rubbish and re-straightening the cushions for what seemed to be the third time she stood back and admired her work. _Not bad_

Before she started her cleaning spree she'd called Josephine to explain that her brother was coming over in the afternoon for a quick lunch but she was by all means welcome to join them. She couldn't help feeling slightly relieved when Josephine politely declined, choosing to stay at her friend's house until Lisbon called to say they'd left.

Patience. Teresa Lisbon did not do waiting and after opening the fridge for the fourth time she was relieved to hear a loud knock at the door. The clock on the wall said it was bang on 1 o'clock which was odd as Jamie's specialty had always been arriving at least a couple of minutes (half an hour) late. She rushed to the door expecting to hear the excited chatter of her niece and the deep voice of her brother as he tried to calm her down but all she could hear was silence. She wasn't expecting to find Patrick Jane standing on her doorstep, one hand hooked casually in his pocket.

"Jane!"

Unable to wipe the surprised look off her face quick enough Jane cleared his throat and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together anxiously. "You didn't tell me what you'd planned today so I thought I would come over to check you hadn't run away."

"You couldn't have just called me and asked?" she said but she could feel the corners of her mouth curling upwards. Of all the days to turn up on her doorstep trust him to pick the one her brother was visiting on, but he was here now and she felt rude turning him away so…

"Sorry, I just…" she realised she hadn't invited him inside and the look on Jane's face told her he'd noticed as well. "Come in, I've just tidied up."

"Oh, so you were expecting me?" He grinned as he wiped his feet on the carpet and she rolled her eyes.

"No actually, I wouldn't make this much of an effort if you were coming over," she said ignoring his raised eyebrow, "my brother and niece happen to be coming over today for lunch."

Any other person probably would have apologised and left there and then but not Patrick Jane. A confused expression seemed to cross his face before his eyes brightened with a glint Lisbon knew all too well. _We're in for some trouble._

"Oh no, you-"

"Come on, Teresa. What's the worst that could happen?"

"You really want me to answer that?" She said monotonously the open door still held in her hand.

"Come on, I've never met any of your family." Lisbon raised an eyebrow at him. "Okay, okay I've met Tommy and his daughter but they well-"

"Weren't really in the 'let's sit down and talk about old times' kinda mood? Yeah, us Lisbon's aren't really that kind of family." Although Jamie was the anomaly there but she wasn't going to tell Jane that.

"Please?"

Oh god, was she really going to agree to this? The first, last and only time Jane had set foot in her house had been to hypnotise her and it had only been brief as she had almost forced him out when she started to cry.

"Okay, I guess you can stay," she sighed and let the door slowly swing shut, "but any sign of trouble-"

"Oh, Teresa I wouldn't dream of you having to kick me out. I'll be on my best behaviour, I promise."

Yeah right.

She watched him in silence as he paused to look through her photographs; bending down to look closely at the ones hidden right at the very back but before he could say anything embarrassing she asked "I suppose I should offer you a cup of tea?"

"No thanks, but would I be able to use your bathroom?" He was already moving quickly towards the stairs so he missed her closing her eyes because in Jane's terms (and any cop come to think of it) 'use the bathroom' translated as 'look around the house'.

"It's upstairs on the right," she said and when he glanced mischievously over the banister she called, "Don't go nosing around!"

His laughter was low, teasing, and she knew that he was definitely not going to the bathroom but before she could drag him back down the stairs she heard a car door slamming outside and a small animated voice with little footsteps running up the path, slow heavy strides following in their wake. She put a hand to her heart and sighed, realising how much she'd missed them.

A tiny knock rang out around the room followed by a booming voice saying, "You'll have to knock a little louder, Sal. Auntie Libby is getting deaf in her old age."

"Hey!" Lisbon called, "I heard both of those things actually so you," she flung open the door, "can shush."

"Auntie Libby!" Small hands wrapped themselves around Lisbon's legs and she looked down at the little blonde monkey beaming up at her, messy plaits sticking out at awkward angles.

"Hey Sally, you okay?" Lisbon laughed as her niece nodded, "You need to stop growing you know that? Look how tall you are!"

Sally unhooked her arms from around Lisbon's legs and started hopping from one foot to the other, peering around her Auntie into the house. "I'm tallest in my class, nearly as tall as Freddie!"

"Go on, get inside," she moved to let Sally past and the girl bolted for the coffee table where she swung off her backpack and began taking out her pencil cases.

"Hey T-Rex, how's it going?"

The tall muscular man staggered over the thresh hold, his arms laden with games and enormous rucksacks, but his eyes were shining brightly as he bent down to kiss her lightly on the cheek, a huge smile on his face.

"I'm good Dell Boy, need a hand there?" She took some of the bags and her arms sagged, "how long are you thinking of staying? Geez, these weigh a ton!"

"We're staying over a friends place for a while and it seems that Sally insisted on packing half the house."

"Ah, I see." She put the bags down beside the door and looked over at Sally who was sorting her coloured pencils from light to dark.

"You gonna draw Auntie Lisbon another picture, Sal?" Her heart swelled when her niece nodded energetically, plaits bobbing up and down.

"What's it going to be this time?"

"You saving the world from bad guys!" Sally threw her hands in the air and beamed across at Lisbon who laughed. "Have you stopped any bad guys lately, Auntie Libby?"

"Well..." she could always say 'yes' because the team had taken quite a few felons down to lock up as of late but she opted for telling her something different. "I've actually got a girl staying with me and the moment because a bad guy came after her and she has nowhere to go."

"Really?" Sally asked, her eyes wide, and Lisbon inwardly prayed she wouldn't ask where her parents where. The girl continued to stare at her like she'd just been told vampires were real and then, "Is she here? Can I draw something for her?"

Just like her father, always giving. "She's at a friend's right now but I think she'd really like a picture!" And why not? It was worth seeing Sally dive back into her bag to pull out a third pencil case full of colours.

"A girl staying, huh?" Her brother muttered in her ear and she turned away towards the kitchen. "You failed to mention that when you were on the phone to me. If we're intruding or-"

"Stop. Stop right there. You know full well I would have told you if you couldn't come round so shut it." They leaned against opposite counters and faced each other, brother and sister, mirroring one another with their arms folded and heads cocked to one side. "Have you grown?"

"Nope, you don't get to change the subject that easily. Why's she here? I take it her family..."

"Yeah. They're the ones who got 'taken by the bad guys.'" They stood in silence for a moment.

"But why here, Bonnie?"

"I said I'd take her in until her grandparents could be contacted. She won't be here for much longer but it hasn't really hit her yet and when it does I know I'll be able to help her." Jamie stared at her and she realised that she'd raised her voice. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Besides, it's nice having somebody else around the house."

In seconds Jamie's expression had changed from concern to wicked glee and she felt her stomach sink. _Walked right into that one…_

"You know, if you let me set you up with Paul you wouldn't be so-"

"No, Jamie-" Oh god, here we go.

"Come on, come on! Give him a chance!"

"You know my work comes first, I just- I'd need somebody who understands that and if...if I wanted to settle down they'd have to be willing to accept me and my cop-alter-ego. Someone like that is difficult to find."

"Hey," Jamie took a step forward and she sagged into his arms while he rubbed soothing circles up and down her back. God, she'd missed him, missed this. It was difficult to argue with Jamie unlike Tommy who could pick an argument out of thin air. Jamie listened to everything she said, especially when it came to reading between the lines. In some ways he reminded her of Jane...

Jane.

Ah.

"He's here, Jamie."

"Well that's very precise, Teresa." He let go of her, bent his knees and began creeping around the kitchen like a villain from one of Sally's cartoons. "A murderer is here? The milkman? Stevie from 1st Grade? Oh, please tell me it's Megan Fox…"

"Can't you take anything seriously?" She said monotonously, "Jane. Jane's here. Specific enough? And since when have I ever had a milkman?"

Jamie straightened up and looked around the room expectantly. "Jane? _The _Jane?" She was glad he had lowered his voice to a whisper but his child-like expression made her anxious. "Crap, is he hiding somewhere because I can't see him-"

"He's upstairs you dope so be quiet."

"Cripes!" he whispered with excitement dancing in his eyes, "will he read my mind? He won't hypnotise me into a chicken will he or …actually could he make me do a back flip? That sure would impress the kids."

"No. And I don't want to you ask him anything like that Jamie, you hear me?" She gave him the look which he always said (much to her dislike) she had inherited from her father but he raised his palms as a sign of understanding. Then he quirked his eyebrow and the grin was back.

"But _why_ is he here, Bonnie? And why is he _upstairs_?"

She poked him hard in the stomach and he backed away laughing. "He came around for a random visit." Random visit, good one Teresa, nicely played. "And I asked him if he'd like to stay and meet both of you so you can stop your childish imagination right there."

The pipes above them started to hum meaning someone had flushed the toilet but she knew there was no way Jane had been in the toilet for all this time. She could feel her brother watching her out of the corner of his eye as she stared up at the ceiling and when she turned to look at him he was smirking at her.

"Oh shut up," she muttered but before he could reply Sally's little voice called through hesitantly, "Daddy is there a person upstairs?"

Jamie winked over his shoulder before walking over to sit next to Sally on the beautifully vacuumed carpet. Lisbon pushed herself off the kitchen table and tried prepare for introductions.

**III**

After working with the CBI for so long snooping around houses came as force of habit but this was different. This time Jane couldn't pick things up and move them, he couldn't collapse onto a bed or a sofa and he mostly definitely wasn't allowed to take anything. He was a guest here, not that that had stopped him before but he had no need to pick out details and unearth secrets which could be used as evidence. This wasn't a suspect, this was Lisbon. He was walking around upstairs in Teresa Lisbon's house. He was walking around upstairs in a box sized room filled with junk. He was...what was he doing? Pacing. He, Patrick Jane, was nervous.

When he hadn't received a call or text from Lisbon by 12 o'clock a hundred different reasons flooded his mind. She might not be up yet (no chance.) She might still be embarrassed about their slight disagreement yesterday (unlikely.) She might not have come up with an idea on what to do (possible.) Jane ran through a dozen different 'she might's' before getting in the car and driving over. If she hadn't thought of anything to do or was planning on backing out he was determined to do anything to convince her to carry on.

He hadn't been planning on the arrival of her brother and niece.

Meeting new people had never been a problem for Jane, one of the many traits he had picked up from being on the stage. He could charm the deepest secrets out of the most dangerous Mafia boss and become friends with children in mere seconds yet here he was nervously rubbing his hands together in a tiny junk filled room. What made these people any different from the hundreds of adults and children he'd met before?

Well, maybe because this was _Lisbon's_ brother and _Lisbon's_ niece.

It felt like the most important exam of his life and he hadn't been given any time to prepare for it. He had one chance to make a good impression. One chance.

He took a deep breath and walked out of the tiny closet, detouring quickly into the bathroom across the hall to flush the toilet knowing it would make Lisbon smile. She knew full well what he'd been up to.

"Ah, here he is," came Lisbon's voice as he bounded down the stairs, "I was beginning to think you'd got lost which is pretty impossible in this house."

There was a smile on her face but her whole body was rigid as she awkwardly turned to address the tall man standing beside her. "This is Jamie and his daughter Sally." Jane held out a hand and Jamie immediately reached out to grasp it, his grip strong yet relaxed. Good, he wasn't being seen as a threat. Good, this was good.

"It's great to finally meet you, Jane." Jamie folded his arms and cast a sideways glance at his sister, "I think saying 'I've heard so much about you' would be an understatement."

"Oh, well," Jane let his gaze slid to meet Lisbon's and raised an eyebrow which made her glare up at her brother, "I hope it's only been about how well I do my job."

Unperturbed by his little sister's death stare Jamie roared with laughter and the sound of it shook away the rest of Jane's nerves. "I think we're going to get on fine, Jane. Just fine."

"Jane?" A little voice piped up from underneath the table and a blonde little Pippi Longstocking popped up, a streak of blue pen across her cheek and a comical confused expression on her face. "But...isn't that a girl's name?"

Now it was Lisbon's turn to laugh as her brother shook his head at his daughter but even he had a grin on his face. "Jane is his surname, sweetie. Patrick is his first name but everyone at work called each other by their last name."

"Ohhhhhhh!" Sally's head lolled back onto the sofa, holding the syllable until she ran out of breath and Jane watched as Lisbon's face shone with happiness. It was obvious that she had missed them both and he took in every detail of her face as she laughed at the little girl on the carpet.

"Want me to make you some tea, Jane?"

Jamie raised an eyebrow when Jane snapped his head round to look at him and he swallowed hoping he wasn't blushing too much. _Focus, you idiot_

"Jamie no, I'll do it." Lisbon turned back to her brother, blissfully unaware that he had just caught Jane staring fixedly at his sister. He felt himself groan internally as he replied to her without breaking his gaze from Jane's.

"You sit and carry on drawing with Sally. I'll get you some tea as well while I talk to Jane."

That didn't sound good.

"Okay," said Lisbon, "but don't make him do anything stupid. Promise me now you won't hypnotize him, Jane." Staring up at him, barefoot and pleading, Jane didn't even have the heart to make a joke.

"I promise," he said.

Her head flicked from him to her brother before she huffed away, muttering about 'never keeping promises anyway' and sat crossed legged next to Sally on the carpet.

Jane followed Jamie into the kitchen where he flicked on the switch and turned to lean back on the counter, gazing out of the window. He was struck by a sudden thought that with no parents to be introduced to this was the closest family Lisbon had. The nerves were creeping back into his belly.

"My sister hasn't has a serious relationship with somebody in nearly nine years." Jamie continued to gaze out at the street but Jane was pretty sure he was watching his reaction in the window so he merely nodded.

"I've always warned about this job taking over her life but it seems to have_ become_ her life instead. Don't get me wrong Patrick I'm sure she's a brilliant cop. She wouldn't be where she is now without the Lisbon determination and I'm sure the death stare comes in handy from time to time." He smiled sadly and turned to look at Jane. "But sometimes...sometimes I'd just wish she'd take a step back from it all and realise that opportunities are just slipping by."

He shook his head and huffed out a small laugh. "Geez, listen to me spouting all this insightful crap. It's this sort of stuff I usually tell the kids before they go out for a game." Ah, sports coach, not full time but hoping to be judging by the sadness in his voice.

Jane had a feeling he wasn't finished so he merely said, "You're her big brother so you have a right to be worried about her."

"That's the thing, I do. I worry about her all the time. Not just because she's a cop and, yeah, she could get pummelled or shot at but because she looks out for other people more than she looks out for herself. I bet she stays up finishing paperwork and triple checking leads if they don't turn out right just so she can give someone's family the closure they need."

That sure sounded like Lisbon. He nodded.

"That's Bonnie. You know that Tommy and me haven't spoken in nearly thirteen years? I know what you must think, 'you're grown men, why can't you just behave like adults?' Well because sometimes there are people you just don't get on with and for me that's my brother, ever since the night our...our.." He swallowed and Jane watched his jaw clench.

"The night your father died."

Their eyes locked for a moment and Jane saw the shock flash through Jamie's eyes before they softened as understanding hit him. He smiled slowly.

"She told you about it?"

"Yes. Well. She told me about how she looked after you and how he was after your mother died."

Jamie didn't reply continuing to stare at Jane as his grin spread across his face. "She told you," he finally said, sounding incredulous and surprised. "Yeah, well. My brother and I argued that night and when Phil came to take us away Tommy and I argued and...it doesn't matter now but we haven't been on speaking terms since and Lisbon hasn't really forgiven either of us for not making the effort. She has to constantly flit between us and our families and I know not speaking doesn't make it easy for her but…" The kettle flicked off and in the silence both men listened to the hissing and spluttering of the water until it died away.

"What I'm trying to say is she deserves the best my sister. I know she's not eighteen anymore and I know she can look after herself but I'll always be her big brother. She may be able to aim a gun and defend herself but emotionally..." His voice trailed off and following his gaze Jane watched as Lisbon held up a picture Sally had drawn and the little girl hugged her tightly.

"I just want her to be happy," his voice was barely a whisper but Jane heard the crack of emotion breaking through.

"Don't worry," he said, "Lisbon's a fighter, and you and I both know that." As he was speaking Lisbon turned to look at him, her eyes asking three questions at once. "But I promise you I'll look after her."

"You guys okay over there?"

"We're fine. Jamie was just pouring your tea so why don't we do a swap?" He could feel Jamie staring at the side of his head as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "It'll give me a chance to show off my drawing."

"Oh really? Is this another one of your many talents to add to the list?"

"You'll just have to wait until you see the finished result won't you?" He raised an eyebrow at her as they passed each other and she let out a small laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He felt his heart jump and it was still beating fast when he sat down on the floor and pulled a plain piece of paper towards him.

As the two of them sat drawing, Jane answered Sally's quick-fire questions (Do you know how to draw a horse? Is working with bad guys scary? Are you Auntie Libby's boyfriend?) and loved every second of it. He missed this, basking in how innocent children were and how much they had yet to learn. He'd started showing her magic tricks instead just to watch her eyes almost pop in awe.

"Again, again!" She jumped up and down on her bum, clapping her hands excitedly. "Make it disappear again! I'll get it this time!"

"Okay Sal, let Mr Jane go and have some tea before you spoil his trick." Jamie nodded towards the kitchen and after passing back the magic lid he stood up and headed toward the kitchen carrying his best drawing.

Before he could say anything Lisbon bit her lip and said, "You have pen on your shirt," and continued to snicker behind her hand as he attempted (and failed) to lick it off.

"Hey, thanks. For drawing with Sally." He stopped rubbing at his shirt and slowly lifted his head to look at her. She was standing in front of him one hand tucked in her pocket the other running through her hair, letting it fall slowly over her face and shoulders. He wanted to reach out and touch it.

"She's a great kid and she likes magic tricks. How could I not love her?"

"You might change your mind if you had to put her to bed. She's a round the clock worker in the making, never sleeps yet still has the same amount of energy the next day." Again she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Again Jane felt he body yearning to reach out and touch her.

Jane started to speak "Listen I-" as Lisbon said, "Jane I-" and the both laughed shyly before returning to look at each other. This time he actually felt his breathing hitch and his hands trembled as they stared at each other centre meters apart. He released the painting from his fingers and they both watched it flutter down on to the floor.

Then in perfect unison their faces lifted to look at each other once more.

"Jane"

Unable to resist any longer Jane reached up his hand and gently stroked her cheek with his fingertips. He watched her eyes flutter closed at his touch – it was almost too much to bear.

_Pull away Jane, Pull away! Now!_ A tiny voice inside him urged, _Before something happens you'll regret!_

Now Lisbon was taking a step towards him…

But he didn't want to pull away. He wanted Lisbon to kiss him. He wanted to know what it felt like to have her lips on his, to taste her, to-

There was an almighty crash and they broke apart.

"It's okay, it's fine," Jamie's voice called from the living room, "it was my fault, I'll pay for it." But Jane couldn't hear anything because the blood was crashing through his ears, making his head spin. Lisbon looked just as dazed, face flushed and pupils blown but she was grinning.

"I guess now would be a good time to start lunch, wouldn't it?"

The piece of paper was still on the floor between them and Lisbon picked it up and pushed it playfully into his chest, waiting for him to taking it, holding his gaze before turning on her heel and walking back into the living room.

Jane leaned back against the counter and wondered what would have happened if Jamie hadn't rudely interrupted. The thought left him grinning like an idiot until Jamie himself walked in to help with lunch and he quickly busied himself with getting the plates out of the cabinet to hide his flaming cheeks.

**III**

The next two hours passed in a flurry of shared stories, a table full of coloured crayons and a heated debated on who could run the fastest.

"Ryan Jacobs' 30th birthday party. That's how I'm ending this because I totally beat your butt to the end of his field and back," Lisbon said collecting the three empty mugs off the table. Jamie spluttered an argument back but her laughter drowned him out.

"Oh cr- is it really half four already?" Jamie was gaping at his watch when she returned and her heart sank when he began helping Sally pack away. This was the part she hated every time she saw them which was why she put it off for so long but that was a disadvantage in itself. "Gee, Sal we should have hit the road ten minutes ago if we're hoping to get there in time. Sorry Bon, we've stayed way longer than I said we would."

The coloured pencils were zipped back into their case and Sally picked out the drawings Lisbon knew she'd be asked to hang up in her house and then they'd leave. Too quickly, moments like this were always here and gone far too quickly. She caught Jane looking at her and knew he was reading her thoughts. He smiled sadly. "Guess I should be disappearing as well." It was made as a general comment but his eyes never left Lisbon's as he rose to his feet.

"No no, please don't leave because I am." Jamie tried to shoulder on his rucksack and hasten Jane to sit back down but nearly toppled over in the process. Jane laughed and helped him secure his bag onto his shoulder before saying, "I need to get back to check on the team, see how the case is going." Obviously a lie but Jamie seemed less agitated.

"Oh, okay, well I don't feel so bad now. Not the only one that loses track of time!" They laughed and Lisbon shook her head, smiling.

"Jane! Jane! Jane!" Sally rifled clumsily through the pictures in her hand until she found the ones she wanted. "Don't forget your pictures. I..I'm.." she pulled her empty hand away when he'd taken them and shuffled her feet, "I'm keeping the ones you draw for me."

Lisbon saw Jane look down at the pictures in his hands before bending down in front of the little girl to say, "I wouldn't want them back because I drew them for you. They're yours."

"Really? Oh! Thank you!" And then she did something neither Lisbon or Jane expected. She leaned forward and hugged the magic consultant, still clutching the other drawings in her hand, and Lisbon saw Jane's heart stop. He froze for a fraction of a second before bringing his hand up to stroke the little girl's head, a gesture which caused Lisbon's whole body to swell with affection.

They broke apart and when Jane stood up Jamie was waiting with an outstretched hand and a look on his face which made Lisbon want to roll her eyes. "It was good to finally meet you, Mr Jane. You're not as bad as my sister says you are but then again," he glanced at her over Jane's shoulder, "I know how she likes to exaggerate. I hope we'll see you again soon."

Wait, what? Cheeky little-

"The feeling's mutual," Jane said and he released Jamie's hand to turn and look at Lisbon waiting for him by the door. "I finally know where Lisbon gets her sense of humour from." She did roll her eyes at that, especially when Jamie laughed.

"The one and only. See you, Patrick."

"See you, Jamie. Bye Sally." He gave her a small wave, which she returned with two little jumps, before he walked out onto the porch and she closed the door behind them.

Neither one of them spoke, just listened to the sounds of the neighbourhood; a lawnmower churning, someone's radio blasting out Bruce Springsteen, the wind chime tinkling even though there was no breeze.

"Thank you," Jane said softly and Lisbon turned to look at him but his gaze was fixed on the wind chimes. She could only stare as her heart thudded wildly against her chest. They had worked together for nearly six years and in those years he had not once rendered her speechless. Okay, when he wanted her to trust him on a really crazy theory or when he produced things, flowers and a tiara, she would sometimes be silenced just at how _Jane_ it was but this was different. Words weren't enough.

Instead she wanted to take his hand and lean into him, run a hand down his cheek like he had with her, thank him for being so kind to Sally, for making her brother laugh until he had tears in his eyes. But there was more, more, _so_ much more she should say but it wasn't enough and the way her insides were vibrating made her feel so vulnerable she could cry.

"What are we doing tomorrow?" She hoped he wouldn't notice the shake in her voice but even though his gaze never wavered she saw the corner of his mouth sneak up. The sight of it made her hands shake even more because he must know; surely he must know how she was feeling right now? God, she hated this.

He turned to face her and looked her straight in the eye.

"Bring your football shirt. I'll text you the time and place tomorrow. And Teresa, thank you." He repeated, a small smile slowly sliding up one side of his face, "I really enjoyed today. Best day yet." He swung his jacket over one shoulder as she smirked back at him and walked away before she could say another word.

The little blue Citroen disappeared up the road and Lisbon backed into the door feeling like she'd just caught up with a criminal, adrenaline flooding through her, heart still pumping at double its normal speed against her ribs. She sighed and opened the door just as her brother pulled on it from the inside.

Jamie didn't mention Jane until Sally was belted up ready in the car and the bags were loaded in the back. He slammed the trunk shut and pulled her into a rough hug, squeezing her like this was the last time he'd ever see her again.

"I should really visit more often because each time I do it gets harder to say goodbye." The tears she had been trying to hold back filled her eyes. She couldn't do this, didn't want to. She closed her eyes and breathed him in. "I promise we'll visit much sooner but I know your job is...well we never know when you'll be here or not."

"You know you're always welcome to stay," she whispered into his ear and when she tried to pull away he hugged her tighter, "I miss you just as much. I may be a hard ass cop but I get lonely." A few tears sought their betrayal by escaping from under her eyelashes and she hated the way her voice shook. "Don't go?"

"You know I have to, Bonnie," he squeezed her even tighter and she felt her necklace cut into her chest, "but you know you can _us _visit anytime you're not putting away the bad guys."

They let go of each other and when Lisbon noticed he had tears in his own eyes she felt a few more slid down her cheeks.

"Hey, now, don't cry," he reached out and brushed them away, "you've got a reputation to keep, remember?" She sniffed and huffed out a small sigh, not quite up to laughing. He was leaving her and she felt selfish for being angry at him. He had his own life, a little girl to look after, so she shouldn't be mad at him for going but because she was she couldn't look at him.

"I like him."

The three words hung in the air between them like vapoury breath on a cold morning. Lisbon doesn't need to ask who 'him' was. She knew he wasn't finished but this time she didn't try to stop him.

"He's not at all like I thought he would be but then again I don't know what I was expecting. Some sort of unshaven mad man who conjures ribbons and rabbits whilst reciting my every move since I woke up. I know, I know, 'over active imagination'," he held up his hand when she glared at him, "but that's your fault for telling me so much about him.

"I know you think he's still not ready to move on yet and I get that. I've heard all about his past, from the stuff I've read online and from you personally, but I've met him first hand now and if you saw the way he looks at you I think you'd change your mind."

For the second time in the space of half an hour Lisbon could think of nothing to say only this time it was because she couldn't decide whether or not to smack her brother round the head. Before she could make her decision he pulled her into another hug and she felt his chest vibrating against her as he laughed softly into her ear.

"Oh Bonnie. Still as stubborn as always aren't we, eh?" He pulled back and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "See you soon, okay? _Real_ soon."

"Real soon," she repeated and watched as he climbed into his battered car and wound the window down. Sally immediately turned round in her seat as they started to drive away and began waving frantically back at her Auntie, pigtails bobbing wildly back and forth. Lisbon waved until the car had turned the corner at the top of the street and disappeared, feeling like a little part of her a driven away with them. Then she remembered what her brother had said about Jane and she couldn't decide whether to laugh out loud or scream with frustration. Or both.

Instead she walked slowly back up to the house and closed the door behind her, the sudden silence hitting her right in the gut. She busied herself by calling Josephine to say she was welcome to come back whenever she way ready and then started washing up, flicking on the beat up old radio to drown out the deafening quietness.

She was just putting away the last of the mugs when she heard her cell phone ringing and the thought of who it might be on the other end sent shivers all over her body. _Stop being so pathetic, _she thought, _he doesn't call. He never does only when he wants something. _She mentally cursed her brother for saying such stupid things and picked up the phone with shaking hands. The tingles quickly faded as she read the caller ID an odd sense of unease replacing it. Why the hell was _he _calling?

Preparing for bad news she flipped open her phone and waited for the person on the other end to speak.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I think this is the quickest I've ever uploaded a chapter and it's double the length of the last one (sorry to those of you who don't like long chapters!) Fasten your seat belts because it's all about to kick off..

Reviews always welcome!


	21. Mad Red Roses

_Mad Red Roses_

The cool night air filled the car as Jane wound down the window, flicking off the headlights so he wouldn't draw attention to himself. The last thing he wanted right now was a cop telling him he needed to move along because he was making the neighbours suspicious. That would only earn him an eye roll from Lisbon seeing as it was _her_ house he was watching.

When he'd left her house earlier he hadn't gone home, couldn't, not with so much on his mind. Instead he'd taken up what he'd said to Jamie and had gone to the precinct hoping the team had found some more information on the Marianne's case or any case in general, something to detract his mind from everything he was feeling.

Van Pelt was the only one in the Bull Pen and seemed pleased to see him albeit a little tired around the eyes but she quickly informed him on the developments. She was hesitant to tell him about Red John's new MO, clearly afraid that he would flip out or demand to know where the body was and maybe in the past he would have done. It was too late for that now, his time was drawing to an end and soon it would all be over so he wasn't surprised by her confusion when all he did was nod but he was too busy mulling things over to be amused by it.

After lying on the sofa for nearly two hours he finally came to a decision and that was why he now sat across the road from Teresa Lisbon's house, fingers twitching in anticipation. He was nervous, more than nervous, to actually be sitting here outside her house. _Can I do this? _he asked himself, _am I really going to tell her about Red John's last plan?_ The way his heart was beating answered the questions for him. He didn't want to leave her in the dark about anything anymore. This week has been about gaining trust and he hoped that he had allowed her to see she_ could _trust him.

Recently he had been sleeping better, compared to the four or five hours he was used to, and wondered if it was because he hadn't been around crimes scenes full of bodies and weeping relatives. His heart would argue that it was from spending these past few days with Lisbon, revealing a hidden side to her which had never seen before.

He closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift back to the café two days ago when Lisbon had shed light on her past, the sad look in her eyes as she gazed out of the window, and couldn't help but feel a jolt of admiration inside him. He understood that if she could trust him with a part of _her_ past, then if was only fair for her to know about his. That had been the reason for the "Days of Jisbon" in the first place.

He'd eventually told her about Josephine but she had turned away from him and he felt a twist in his gut. Why had it been easier to tell Cho? What made Lisbon any different? Well, because he'd been scared of her reaction, scared she would turn away and she almost had but only because he hadn't told her _sooner._ If, after this, she could not face him anymore then just telling her would be enough.

Lying on the couch in the precinct he'd gone back over the past week; sitting with her on the porch, seeing sadness in her eyes, the way she'd laughed on the ice rink, how she'd whispered his name as she'd leaned in towards him… He'd focused on the last one in particular and had driven straight over.

The light was on in her living room window and Jane smiled as he pictured the exact place it was inside her house. He'd just placed a foot on the pavement when the front door opened slightly and the outside light flickered on. _Strange, _he thought but then he remembered Josephine was staying with Lisbon and he froze. The thought of confronting her hadn't crossed his mind and he wasn't mentally prepared for such a meeting but he didn't have time. There was no time left. _It has to be now_

Then Walter Mashburn stepped out onto the porch and all rational thoughts disappeared from his mind.

They were too far away for him to hear what they were saying but he could just make out Lisbon leaning to one side in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest as she gazed up at him. Once upon a time he'd liked this man with his expensive suits, speed boats and more than enough cars to crash. Sharp memories of himself encouraging Lisbon to go out with this arrogant, million dollar fool, who only cared about money and good sex, made his insides burn.

He watched Mashburn lean in to say something into Lisbon's ear and she laughed, a _real_ laugh, one of the rare ones where she tilted her head back and closed her eyes and when she brought it back down he saw Mashburn kiss her cheek.

Something broke inside him, a gunshot of pain flooded his insides and he let out a short gasp at the force of the emotion. No blood ever seeped from the wound of a breaking heart but it took everything he had to fight back the torrent of tears threatening to leak from his eyes. Slowly, tearing his gaze away from the porch, he swung his legs back into the car and threw the flowers down beside him where they drooped sadly off the edge of the seat. Hands shaking he turned on the engine and, resisting the urge to glance back over his shoulder, he reversed and drove away.

_Keep driving,_ _don't think about her with him. _

_Mashburn whispering words into her hair. _

_Mashburn kissing her cheek. _

_Mashburn-_

He swung into the nearest space and rested his head on the steering wheel unable to decide whether to scream with rage or get out and cause some trouble. It wouldn't be difficult in the state he was in. Instead he sat silently and waited until his breathing was back under control, heart still thrashing madly against his ribs.

Yesterday on the rink he'd realised he'd fallen in love with Lisbon; the pull on his heart whenever he saw her was all too familiar and today on the porch when he'd said goodbye to her he could have sworn she felt the same way. He should have learned by now that he, Patrick Jane, never got the things he wanted. Money he had but didn't want or need, friends he pushed away as far as he could and the thought of starting a relationship never crossed his mind...until now.

But what did it matter? He'd be gone soon. This was for the best. He wanted Lisbon to be happy, to be with someone who could look after her physically and emotionally, not to mention Mashburn was loaded. Yes, this was for the best.

_But you could be better..._

A slamming door outside had him slowly raising his head off the steering wheel. A young woman was walking down the steps of the house he'd parked by and even in the darkness the moonlight glinted on the tears spilling quietly down her face. Without even thinking he rolled down his passenger window.

"Sorry, er, excuse me," he waved at her when she raised her head, "I'm a little lost could you tell me where I am?"

Her eyes were blank as if she were hypnotised and for a fraction of a second Jane wondered if she was going to reply.

"2209 O Street is where I'm sat." Her voice was monotonous but he could hear the underlying shake it held. "Depending on where you want to go if you turn around and go back that way," she nodded down the road, "you'll eventually hit the freeway."

"Thanks. Beautiful night isn't it?"

"It's why I'm out here," she sighed turning her head towards the moon and Jane was glad to see she was no longer crying. "Sometimes I just sit out here and look at the stars and wish I could be one of them. Billions of light years away from this world and yet we can see them. They're beautiful."

He followed her gaze up into the sky and the sight reminded him of last night when he had watched Lisbon do exactly the same thing, marvelled at the curve of her neck at she'd looked up into the darkness. The thought made his heart ache and he struggled to keep his breathing even.

"You know, the world is a beautiful place when people smile."

"Huh, yeah right."

"Hey, it is you know! A little smile can go a long way."

A sudden thought struck him and he reached back into the car, picked up the discarded flowers beside him and held them grandiosely out of the window. "A bouquet of flowers does too."

The woman gave him a sceptical look and walked hesitantly towards him, taking the flowers from his hand. "Is this some weird way of hitting on me? Because it's not-"

"Nope. Can't a kind stranger give a sad lady a bunch of flowers to make her smile again?"

She brought the flowers close to her face and closed her eyes as she breathed them in. "Not in this day and age but thank you. Oh but wait!" Jane suddenly found the flowers being brandished back into his face as the woman whispered, "I can't take these. They belong to somebody else who deserves them more than I do."

Even if he'd wanted to he couldn't have taken them back, not after seeing the sadness disappear from her eyes and he lifted a hand to push them back toward her. "They're yours, please. Take them."

"Oh, okay. Well, whoever she is, she's missing out on a great man."

"Ah," he switched on the engine and she stepped back away from the kerb, "sometimes you don't know what you're missing out on until you've have had it taken away. Now you keep that smile on your face, okay?"

"Sure thing, but you gotta do the same!" She walked back up the steps and when she reached the top she turned and gave him one last wave before disappearing back into the house. He pulled out onto the road and began to drive knowing the last thing he was going to do was smile.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Quickest update ever. Probably because it's so short (I'm sorry!) but the next one will be long don't worry, more from Lisbon's POV and another Josephine I think.

Thanks to all those who've Story Alerted/Reviewed! Leave a review telling me what you think!


	22. Red Run Dry

_Red Run Dry_

It was nearing eight o'clock in the morning and Lisbon was on her way back from driving Josephine off at school, trying to get her head around what had happened last night.

When Walter's caller ID flashed up on her phone she had a brief recollection of their last meeting, but she answered anyway. They'd made polite conversation on how the other was and what they'd been doing since their last meeting, but just when Lisbon began making her excuses there was a knock on the door. She felt no surprise when she was met with the Walter's grinning face, phone still clasped lazily to his ear.

"_Aren't you going to invite me inside?" _

She'd hesitated, wondering if she really wanted such a flamboyant person in her tiny apartment because she knew he'd be judgmental, turning his nose up at everything in sight or making sly suggestions about things he could 'add to the décor'. Being patronised was something she could handle but not how she wanted to end such a lovely day.

"_I really wish I could but I've got someone staying here who I'd rather not wake."_

"_Oh, really? My heart breaks knowing you found somebody to warm your bed while I was gone. Do tell me who-"_

"_She has school in the morning. She's eighteen years old, Mashburn, and she's here under witness protection."_

He'd looked taken aback and when he saw her sigh against the door frame in exhaustion he made his move, slipping past into the living room. With a groan she'd closed the door behind him and headed into the kitchen.

"_One drink, Walter. I mean it, that's all and then you'll have to go. We both have to be up early in the morning."_

"_Alright, one drink it is." _She didn't miss the disappointment in his voice but there was no reason to feel guilty about it. Why should she? _He_ was the one who'd turned up on her door step uninvited, what did he expect? Well, she knew the answer to that…

They stood facing each other in the kitchen, breathing light conversation over sips of wine, occasionally laughing at something the other had said, but Lisbon didn't miss the way his eyes wandered around her home or how they roamed up and down her body like a predator sizing up his prey.

"_You know the last time we spoke like this we ended up between the sheets." _The empty glass was slowly rested on the counter beside him and he'd taken a step towards her, eyes wild. _"Who's to say it can't happen again?"_

He'd pushed back a strand of hair from her face and she'd struggled not to throw him back across the tiny kitchen. A part of her wanted to pounce on him, let him ravish her like he had done all those months ago, trail kisses down her body until they fell asleep tangled in the sheets. But the other part, the one which had her pushing Mashburn away, was a part which realised she didn't want a "sex, sleep, see you" relationship. Not anymore, not since she'd started having thoughts about somebody else, somebody she wanted to wake up to every day, somebody who wouldn't judge her taste in music or the interior of her apartment.

"_I'm sorry, but that's not what I want anymore."_

"_Ah," _he'd smiled and she was surprised when he stepped back so easily, _"there is somebody else isn't there, a new man in the picture? Tell me, do I know him?"_

"_It's none of your business."_

"_On the contrary I think it is. I want to make sure he's right for you and isn't going to break your heart because if he does I'll…" _His voice faded, gaze fixed on the tiny cork board in the corner, and Lisbon was about to ask if he was alright when she spotted what he was looking at. It was the picture Jane had drawn, the one he had dropped, a beautifully detailed ship which he'd coloured in and jokily signed 'P. Jane.' Mashburn turned back to look at her and gave a tiny smile when he saw the look on her face.

"_Patrick Jane. He always was a worthy competitor and I can see I'm fighting a losing battle." _He turned and headed back into the living room, picking up his coat as she followed him to the door. She could tell his pride was hurt; he'd come here expecting something and wasn't used to being told 'no', but she was glad he hadn't pushed, had understood why she couldn't.

"_I'm not surprised though, in fact I find it rather amusing that it's taken him this long." _She'd opened the door onto the porch, the light automatically switching on at the movement, and when he turned he saw the confused expression on her face.

"_Dear me, Teresa. And you call yourself a cop! Well, I hope to see you soon."_

"_Would mind actually telling me when you're going to arrive instead of just showing up?"_

"_But where would be the fun in that? After all," _he'd playfully whispered into her ear, _"who would answer the door the next time? You…or Patrick?"_

For a moment all she could do was stand there as images of a tired looking Jane answered the door to a fresh faced Walter Mashburn, and then she was laughing at how embarrassingly easy it was to picture. Walter kissed her on the cheek, his face lingering a little too close for a fraction of a second, before he turned away towards his car.

As Lisbon turned into the parking lot, near the café Jane had arranged to meet at, she couldn't help wondering what Mashburn had meant in saying, '_I find it rather amusing that it's taken him this long'. _Taken him this long to what?

Proudly wearing her football shirt underneath her leather jacket, she locked the car and hurried along the road, consciously aware of how her heart was thudding against her ribs. But that was just from running wasn't it? Yes, running.

Jane was waiting for her when she arrived. There was already a teapot and an empty cup of tea in front of him. He stood up when she approached and pulled out a chair for her to sit on, an act which seemed rather grand for such a small café.

"I'll get you a drink. Coffee?"

"Yes, thank you, but shouldn't we wait for the waitress to-" but he was already heading toward the counter.

When he returned, he sat in silence opposite her, watching her drink. Lisbon was a little unnerved. He seemed different. "So where are we going? I'm dying to know, I've been waiting for this all day! And exactly _why_ have you made me bring my football shirt?"

Jane smiled wryly. "I was going to take you to the game tonight."

"Are you serious? Oh my- Wait, what do you mean '_was_'?"

"I mean we were going to go," from inside his jacket he drew out two tickets and threw them onto the table in front of them, "but I've changed my mind."

"Oh really? And why is that?"

"I've decided maybe you should take someone else..."

"Since when did you decide who I did and didn't take?"

Jane shrugged.

"Or are we going to sit here all evening with you being weird."

"Walter._"_

"Sorry?"

"Walter. Pretty obvious if you think about it, isn't it? Wonderful." He laughed again but without humour. "Wonderful Walter."

"What are you talking about?"

"Stop, Teresa. Please don't lie. I can't take you lying to me."

"I wasn't!"

"I can see it in your eyes."

"Jane…"

"I know he went into your house last night, Teresa."

Lisbon coloured. Her face felt hot, and it wasn't from the sunshine. "How?"

"What has 'how' got to do with it? I know."

"Jane, I…"

"Listen, Lisbon, you don't owe me an explanation. Let's face it, this was only ever a game, wasn't it, this stupid '_Five days of Jisbon_' thing? Served its purpose. Kept us busy for a few days while Josephine sorted herself out. That's fine. But let's stop, shall we? I don't think either of us wants to play anymore."

He'd gone back to using her surname. She felt her hands shaking as he spoke.

"Now hang on a second. Don't I get to speak?"

Jane pursed his lips and pushed back his chair. He couldn't look at her. He stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lisbon." He raised his eyes to her just once. "Sorry." And then he walked away.

Lisbon wanted to go after to him, but shame and fear rooted her to the spot and she had to stare hard at her hands to stop crying. When she raised her head again, he had disappeared from view.

She'd told Mashburn to go. She'd told him that she wanted a committed relationship. And he had gone. Moodily and miserably. That was what she would have told Jane, if he'd waited. She wasn't surprised to discover that Jane's walking out on her was more affecting than Walter's had been.

. . .

Josephine knew something was wrong when she heard the rumble of Lisbon's engine parking outside the house. Pulling herself up from the couch she peered through the net curtains, and watched Lisbon talk briefly to the unmarked cop. Earlier that morning Teresa had told her she wouldn't be back until around six, and looking at the clock it had only just gone three. Why was she back so early?

She watched as Lisbon opened the door and shrugged off her leather jacket, tossing it onto the floor with her bag and pulling off the football shirt, leaving her to lean back in just a white tank top and jeans. If Josephine didn't know Lisbon was taking time off work she'd have thought she'd come from a particularly bad case. But in a football shirt? Somehow that was unlikely.

"Is everything alright, Teresa?"

The agent's eyes snapped open and Josephine suddenly felt awkward, unable to give Teresa the privacy she needed within her own home. Not for the first time she considered just packing her bag and leaving, but there wasn't much point. In two days she'd be out of Lisbon's hair, away with her grandparents to Iowa and then overseas to France.

"Sorry, Jo. Yeah, everything's okay. I think I just need to sit down for a while and…and…" Utterly lost for words she watched Lisbon tilt her head back to the ceiling and close her eyes. Something was definitely wrong.

"Watch some crappy TV?" she suggested and gave a relieved smile when Lisbon sighed and nodded. "Okay, you pick the channel and I'll make us some drinks."

And that was how they stayed until six o'clock; side by side amongst the cushions on the sofa, flicking between talk shows and re-runs. Neither of them said a word but Josephine knew Lisbon was glad of the company, and, to be honest, she was too.

"Do you mind me asking who he is?" she asked and when Lisbon whipped her head round, eyes wide, she couldn't help laughing. "That's why you're back early, right? You were so happy this morning and you took longer to do your hair and apply a bit of mascara. He obviously asked you to wear the shirt because you took it off as soon as you got back here. So who is he? And if he stood you up he is _not_ worth it."

When she was younger she used to watch cartoons where one character would see something shocking and their jaw would drop to the floor. Right now, that was exactly how Teresa looked.

"How did you…you just-wow. This…that was way too familiar. Have you always been able to read people that easily?"

"I guess," She drew out the syllables, thinking back to all the times she'd sat at a table and watched people go by, "I just look at people and notice little things about them. Nothing amazing, I'm no Sherlock Holmes."

"Well, you just remind me of somebody I know who has a similar talent."

There was something off about the way she smiled but Josephine chose not to press. They sat in silence for a while and Josephine waited until Lisbon was ready to speak again.

"This is why I never allow myself to get into relationships with men! It's too stressful." Lisbon let out an exasperated breath through her teeth and Josephine buried her feet deeper into the sofa, knowing there was more to come. "He didn't even give me a chance to explain myself! Don't I deserve a chance to explain? If he hadn't walked out I would have told him how I asked Mashburn to leave because I didn't feel anything for him like I…like I do with him."

The clock ticking on the wall sounded deafening in the silence that followed, broken only by the agent's heavy breathing. Josephine picked up a pillow and clutched it to her chest before saying, "Mashburn? The guy who came here for like twenty minutes last night?"

"Yes!" Lisbon practically leaped out of her seat, arms thrown out in front of her. "Twenty minutes, if that! Oh god, we didn't wake you did we? I'm so sorry if-"

"No, you didn't," Josephine interrupted quickly, "I couldn't sleep. So, if Mashburn was in and out of the house, how did Jane even know he was here?"

"I have no idea," Lisbon shook her head slowly and sighed again, running a hand through her hair, "he must have been outside the house but why he'd come back? Maybe-"

"Does he drive a blue Citroen? Like, one of the old types?"

"Yes, he does but how did you-"

"He pulled up outside the house when Mashburn was leaving so he probably saw him, assumed he'd been there for a while, and jumped to conclusions. He drove away as soon as Mashburn left. Did you see him outside?"

Lisbon was shaking her head from side to side; tongue pressed into the side of her cheek, and when she spoke her voice was a high pitched whisper. "It was too dark for me to see anything outside. But what was he doing outside in the first place? Why was he even here?" Josephine wanted to voice her opinions but when Lisbon eyes closed her eyes again she said, "How long have you known him for?"

"Too long. Little over five years now I'd say." A small smile dimpled the agent's face.

"Hang on, so you've known this guy for five years and you're only just developing feelings for him now?"

"No. Yes. I don't know. Maybe, I have no idea. They were never there when we first started working together but they've slowly developed over the course of the five years."

"Okay, so you like him now, what's stopping you from telling him how you feel? Seems to me that if he's willing to camp outside your doorstep he must like you, so-"

"He was not camping outside my doorstep!" Lisbon exclaimed and Josephine sniggered behind her pillow. "I have no idea what he was doing here, but he was parked across the road not on my doorstep. And I can't just go telling him how I feel because I'm sort of his Boss so it would be against the rules. It's…"

"If you're about to say 'complicated' I'll be forced to throw this pillow at you," Josephine threatened. Lisbon shook her head and the laughter which fell from her lips caught her off-guard, the sound of someone who was too exhausted to joke.

"Alright, I won't say it but that's exactly what it is. He…he still hasn't moved on from his last relationship which didn't exactly ended in the best of ways, and I accept that because, if I was in his position, I'd feel exactly the same."

"How long ago did it end?" Josephine would guess at it been a very long relationship ending recently which would explain why Teresa was treating the subject so carefully. Nobody wanted to be somebody's rebound.

"Eight years ago."

Silence enveloped them; Josephine attempted to piece everything together, whilst Teresa stared into the wall opposite. There was something missing, a key piece to the puzzle which once in place would have a domino effect on everything else.

This person was someone Teresa worked with, dependable, a friend more than a colleague, yet by the sound of it they didn't actually work _with_ the cops, more alongside them, an ME or consultant maybe? Why hadn't he been able to move on eight years after his relationship had ended, surely he'd had more than enough time? Unless he hadn't had a choice.

Unless…

Her shoulders slumped forwards and she pushed the pillow aside, folding her arms around her knees as the piece of the puzzle slotted into place, and the dominos in her brain began to fall.

"They were killed weren't they?" she whispered, leaning sideways to rest her head into the sofa.

"Murdered, yes," Lisbon sighed back, turning her head to look at Josephine who felt like she unearthed some dark secret. Part of her wanted to get up and leave, give the agent her space, but another part of her, the part which could read people unusually well, a part which felt lonely and broken too, kept her seated amongst the cushions.

"I'm sorry," was all she could say in return, wishing she had inherited her mother's people skills and immediately regretted it. She was keeping a lid on those thoughts for as long as possible, each day becoming more and more difficult, but Josephine knew how to keep up and act.

"Don't be, you've got nothing to apologise for. It's my fault, I'm shouldn't even be talking about this to you, my sorry excuse of a love life - if you can even call it that! Let me get you another drink and-"

"Its fine," Josephine interrupted quickly, "I don't mind, actually I prefer it. Makes me feel more normal being able to listen to somebody else's worries because it…I…it stops me from thinking about everything for just a few moments."

She expected Teresa to make a joke, berate her for keeping her emotions buried, or worse try and get her talk about them. Instead she gave Josephine an understanding smile and sank back into the cushions with a sigh. "Alright, what do you want to know?"

"Well, I know he came round here Wednesday and you sat outside on the steps. What was that all about?"

And so, for the next hour and half, Teresa explained everything that had happened that week; how the man had conjured up the 'Five Days of Jisbon' to get her to trust him more, taking it in turns to decide what they did every other day. She described all the things they'd done so far, sitting on her doorstep, tea at her favourite café, ice-skating, lunch with her brother and niece. Josephine knew she was leaving parts out, but from beginning to end the girl was enthralled by the way Teresa could talk so animatedly, eyes shining and a wide smile on her face. When it came to describing what had happened last night and earlier today her smile faded and she reverted back to her slumped posture.

"I wasn't expecting it," Teresa finished sadly; "I probably would have followed him if I hadn't been so shocked. I thought that…I thought maybe he'd…maybe.."

"Give you a chance to explain yourself?" Josephine finished for her and Teresa nodded sadly. "I don't blame you. Have you tried calling him?"

"Well, when I finally managed to unfreeze myself I called him straight away but he didn't pick up, and when it went straight to voicemail I gave up." Teresa crossed her legs in front of her, brow furrowed.

"I guess I can see why he was upset but I think that, after making an effort to spend so much time with you, he could at least give you a chance to explain!"

Teresa laughed and rolled her eyes. "Maybe, but that's doesn't sound like Jane."

This was the first time Teresa had mentioned the person's name, having chosen to refer to them in the third person but as soon as she uttered it her whole body tensed up unexpectedly. "Jane?"

Josephine queried as an old memory swam slowly to the surface. "I'm assuming that's his second name. What's his first name?"

It was like a switch had been thrown by uttering his name because Teresa was suddenly on edge, eyes darting around the room as she fidgeted with a loose thread in her jeans. "It doesn't matter. The team all refer to him as Jane so you can as well."

"No, it's just…" The memory was becoming clearer in her mind, unfolding into a conversation she'd had no more than a year ago with her mother about who her real father was, and again only a couple of days ago when she'd been on the phone to somebody. "My mom, she knew somebody with that surname. She spoke to them a few days ago on the phone." P. His name had begun with P. Percy? Paddy? The memory was becoming clearer and she heard the sound of her mother's voice, a hushed whisper behind an unclosed door. "Patrick Jane?"

They looked at each other and in that moment Josephine knew she was right. She didn't feel angry or upset, only confusion.

"Why didn't you tell me? Well, no I already know why you didn't tell me but I would have liked to have known."

"I'm sorry, Jo, I really am but I was told not to."

"Okay, so was it this Red John guy who did this to my Mom? He's the one who killed…" She couldn't bring herself to say 'my Dad's' so she finished with, "Jane's family." Teresa looked at her with wide eyes.

"How much did your Mom tell you?"

"About Jane being my real Dad? Not very much." Josephine said. "I know they both went their different ways before she knew she was pregnant. Mom met John, and Jane started his own family." When Lisbon raised an eyebrow at her she shrugged her shoulders. "They both moved on. I've no reason so be mad at Jane. He didn't even know about me until I was around nine."

"She told you about that?" Lisbon asked incredulously. "Their meeting in the café?"

"Sure, and she told me that afterwards she felt terrible. I mean, she tried to blackmail him into sending her money, threatening to tell his wife about everything. She was really desperate and when he didn't help her like she thought he would she acted in the only possible way she could think of. I'm glad he didn't give in though, really glad."

"What about Red John?"

"I heard her on the phone to Jane saying how she was sorry about the things he'd done. Didn't take long to Google his name and find thousands of articles and an entire Wikipedia page of information about him. Is he the one who did this to my Mom?"

Teresa looked her and nodded. "Everything about the scene says so. We're doing everything we can to track him down." Even though they both knew it was false hope, Josephine was grateful.

"So…does he look like me at all?" She asked hesitantly. "Mom never had any pictures of him and if she did she never showed me them."

Teresa got up, rummaged around in her bag and returned back to the sofa, tucking one foot underneath her. "I think I have a photo of him on here somewhere…" She brushed her finger across the screen a couple of times before turning the phone around and handing it to Josephine. "This was after a case a while ago so you'll recognise the rest of the team. Jane's the one on the left."

The photo had obviously been taken by a passing waiter, because Teresa herself was sitting at the table next to Agent Rigsby who was leaning closely to the redheaded agent on his right. The serious face of Kimball Cho had a ghost of a smile on it, and Agent Hightower looked like she was trying not to smile too much. The only person she didn't recognise was the blonde haired man sitting on the far left whose smile seemed to reach the corners of his ears, something she was all too familiar with when she looked at photos of herself.

"He has your smile," Lisbon said seeming to know exactly what she was thinking, "and you can't really see in the picture but he has your eyes too."

Josephine felt a surge of emotion as she brushed a finger over the face of her father, accidently flicking onto the next picture, one of Teresa and Jane at the office. Teresa's hand stretched out toward the camera with a slightly disgruntled look on her face but the small smile gave it all away as Jane stood next to her, pulling a face with an arm swung casually around her waist. Josephine smiled back at Teresa as she handed the phone back. "He seems like the joker out of everyone."

"Oh, you could say that," Teresa laughed blushing slightly when she noticed the photo Josephine had switched to. "He keeps everybody on their toes." She threw the phone onto the table and leaned back into the cushions, resting on her elbow, head in hand. "You're Mom told you more about him than I thought she would."

"Yeah, I guess it surprised me too when I asked her, and she wasn't holding back on anything. She told me how they met outside a tiny little cafe because he was doing this stupid act and she started heckling him. They both went they're separate ways because it was for the best. Mum met Terry and things were alright for a couple of years before everything started going downhill. But Mum has this way of making it seem like everything's okay, her 'game face' I call it, and only I can see when something's wrong. You should see it! She can..."

Words faded when she noticed the reference to the present tense and she swallowed as the emotion hit her in a fierce wave; a tsunami of grief engulfing every part of her as she tried to grasp the knee jerk of reality sinking in. She couldn't breathe and felt her legs beginning to tremble. Her mother was gone, forever. She would never come home to see her on the phone, hurriedly rifling around the desk she refused to clear. She'd never hear her singing quietly outside in the greenhouse when she thought nobody was at home, an old Sinatra classic or something she'd heard on the radio at home from work. There would be no more crying in each other's arms, no more curling up on the sofa together, no more brushing the horses. She was gone for good. Forever. Josephine was all alone.

"Jo, hey, sweetie, breathe now I don't want you to faint on me. Breathe, come on, here take my hands." Her vision blurring, Josephine felt two warm hands grasp her own and she fought against the short gasps escaping from her, Lisbon's voice commanding yet soft in her ears. "In and out, in and out, that's it. In and out..."

Slowly, aching all over, her head lolled forwards and she collapsed into Lisbon shoulder, trembling as silent tears fell down her face. The effort not to sob loudly was scratching at her throat so to relieve the pain she broke down, childlike sobs echoing around the room as the agent rocked her from side to side.

"Shh, shhh, you're okay. I know, I understand," Lisbon's smooth voice repeated the same words over and over again, a slight hitch in her own voice, but she never stopped. Slowly, her throat raw and aching, Josephine sat up and sniffed suddenly embarrassed.

"Don't be embarrassed." A tissue was plucked from a nearby box which she took with shaking hands. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You haven't mourned properly so it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. If you feel like shouting then feel free, but if you throw anything I may have to cuff you." Josephine smiled into the crumped tissue and took a shaky breath.

"I wasn't expecting it to hit me all at once; even now I can feel this huge ache inside of me. Will it ever go away? Does it ever get any easier?"

"Yes and no," Lisbon said after a long pause, "it gets easier because you begin to accept they're gone, but it never goes away."

She nodded and fiddled with the tissue in her hands. "I can't believe she's gone. There's so much we were going to do. Getting away from Joe was one of them and I was the only one who made it." Her voice broke again and she looked away from Lisbon. "Is it wrong that I don't feel bad about him being dead? After everything he put us through I just...I can't..."

"It's okay. One day, maybe a couple of years from now, you mind find it in you to mourn him but that might take a long time."

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

The silence which followed was painful; Josephine lost in thoughts of a painful past and Lisbon wondering what she would say or do next.

"Is it possible to hate somebody so much and still love them?"

Lisbon tilted her head to one side and smiled sadly. "Yes, it's possible."

"I liked to think I was a superhero," she said, tears running silently down her face. "That every day, every hour, every minute I had to spend with him, locked away upstairs or listening to him smack my Mum around, I was getting stronger. That my powers – powers I didn't even know I had until this real horror movie began – were growing inside me. Every time I recognised him coming home through the door or heard him call my name, I imagined I was morphing into a superhero – like Buffy, you know, the vampire slayer? Like her, one day I would be able to stand up to him and be strong. Then _he_ would be scared of _me_."

"Buffy could sure kick his ass."

"Yeah I know, but I never got the chance because somebody beat me to it. But they took my Mum as well."

An overwhelming surge of tiredness swept over her and she felt her head drooping. Lisbon stood up and took her arms, wrapping one around her waist and guiding her towards the stairs. When they reached her room Lisbon tipped her onto the bed and pulled up the duvet, tucking a few tissues under her pillow before saying, "I'll call your school and tell them you won't be in tomorrow."

"Could you not? It's...I'd rather...it's a good distraction for me," she finished and felt a hand brushing through her hair.

"Okay, but I'll be here when you wake up if you change your mind."

The only thing she could manage was a small "mmh'mm" before the door closed and she drifted into a world of darkness.

* * *

**Author's Note:**Dear, dear Jane. I feel terrible. It's been almost a 6 months since I last uploaded on this. I frustrating when work gets in the way because it's so near the end (6 chapters at least!) To those of you who review this I can't thank you enough. How are you finding the newest episodes?

Red John comes back in the next chapter...which, of course, isn't good!


	23. In The End, The Walls Bleed

_In The End, The Walls Bleed _

The time has come for Red John to close up shop, only this time he won't be returning.

There's no point staying now. It's time.

The final scene is about to take place before the curtain falls.

He's waited too long already. He wishes he had more time, but there isn't any to spare. There never is. He's learned that the hard way, but it's given him something to aim for; the monotonous beat of a countdown before it hits zero.

He is Red John.

Time waits for nobody, not even a master like him.

But Time is on his side because everyone is waiting for his next move, the swish and a flick of a piece on a checked board in the hopes that _this time_ he might slip up. _We'll get him this time, this time we'll get him_. No! That's not how this fucking game is played. The checkmate will be his and it all starts here, with him closing the blinds in the middle of the day.

The last act has begun.

The dénouement starts now.

**. . .**

It felt good to put her hair up and snap her gun into its holster, but Lisbon couldn't help the stir of apprehension at the thought of returning to work.

Seeing Josephine break down yesterday had left her oddly relieved; the poor girl couldn't store all the grief inside her forever, so she was glad to see her finally letting it out. What she hadn't expected was to hear how open Marianne had been about Jane. She thought Marianne might have been too ashamed to tell her daughter who her real father was, and the idea made Lisbon cringe. Of course she would have told her about Jane, he _was_ her real father after all, and an inquisitive teenage would want to know all about him.

Josephine had woken and dressed early for school and, even though her eyes were slightly red, she'd put her foot down and said she still wanted to go even though Lisbon said she was more than welcome to stay.

"I'll be fine, don't worry. I'm seeing my councillor after school, looks like we'll have a lot to talk about. Go back to work," she smiled, "somebody needs to be out there kicking ass."

When Josephine suddenly hugged her, Lisbon wrapped her arms around shoulders, feeling oddly protective.

"You should tell Jane everything."

Her heart stuttered at the sound of his name.

Josephine gave her a small knowing smile at the incredulous look on her face, before disappearing out of the door. Lisbon watched the car disappear before letting her mind wander.

Would he ignore her? Would he be angry? Would he even turn up for work? The latter was easily answered: this was Jane. He hated the house he lived in and he wouldn't miss teasing people in the office for the world.

She picked up her phone and dialled Rigsby who answered on the first ring.

"Hey Boss? Everything okay?"

"Hey Rigsby, everything's fine. I just wanted to get a quick update on how everything's going before I come in."

"Sure, we've been over Mr Odell's body and we went to visit Kristina Frye, both files are on your desk. We're looking into this Ray Jenks guy Terry Overton thinks he saw, but Cho thinks it might just be a mafia boss, nothing to do with Red John."

"Okay," she sighed, knowing that once again they were heading towards a dead end like every other Red John case, "thanks. If you find anything else out before I get there, call me. Ah, and is Jane there?" She was glad he couldn't see her anxiously running her hands over the table top.

"Uhhh," she heard his chair roll to the side as he looked around the office, "nope, doesn't look like it. You know what he's like though, comes in when he feels like it."

_BANG!_

Lisbon instantly reached for her gun, adrenaline pumping so loudly in her ears, it was a few seconds before she realised Rigsby was still on the line.

"Boss? Hey, Boss, is everything okay?"

"Sorry, Wayne. Sounds like someone's exhaust backfired." She peered through the net-curtains at a figure getting slowly out of the car.

"Sure you're okay?"

"It wasn't a gunshot, just a van. I'm fine. I'll check and see if he's okay and then I'll be in. Anything else, call me."

"You got it." He hung up.

She ran down the steps toward the van and approached the driver, whose face was hidden behind a baseball cap.

"Sir, are you okay? Do you need me to call someone to help you?"

No reply.

"Sir," this time she put in a little more authority, "sir, I'm with the CBI I can call you a mechanic."

"No, no," the voice said, gruff yet lyrical, "there's some tools in the back of my truck which might help. Would you mind getting them for me?"

Suspicion was instant as she tried to place the voice. Why was it familiar? Where had she heard it before? She backed toward the rear doors of the van, slowly reaching for her phone.

"Which tools do you need?" She opened the first door and at the same time speed dialled 911. "Any particular tools you-" but any further words died when she saw what was inside.

The interior of the van was covered in smiley faces, different shapes and sizes, but all in the same scarlet red. The smell, god… She gagged back the rising bile, tears in her eyes. What the hell was this? Who on earth...

Fear slithered down her back. No, it couldn't be. It was impossible. It couldn't...no.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

A grubby cloth was thrown over her mouth, freeing her from her statute position, but even as she struggled and tired not to breathe in the fumes, her vision began to grow fuzzy and she knew it was too late.

. . .

The first thing Josephine noticed was Teresa's car still in the drive.

She was back a little later than usual, having rearranged her counselling sessions because she was going back home with her grandparents at weekend. The last time she had seen them was over three years ago. Mom had stopped talking to them when her step-father threatened to hurt them if she ever tried to leave. Josephine had a feeling her grandparents knew what was going on. They never stopped sending birthday and Christmas cards, but she never got to see them.

Turning away from Lisbon's car she gave a small wave to the officer in the car across the street, and he tipped his coffee cup at her. If he was there, she had no reason to be worried; maybe Teresa had gotten a lift, or decided to come back early.

Her suspicions grew when she noticed Teresa's open bag sitting at the front of the door, phone resting on top. Something was wrong.

She hurried down the steps and crossed the road to the officer. He lowered his window as she approached.

"Everything alright, ma'am?"

"Hi, er- I was wondering, well..." She cleared her throat. "Is Ter- Agent Lisbon okay? I mean, her car is still in the drive and her bag is on the porch."

The officer frowned. "I assumed she was inside. My orders are to sit here and wait until you get home, regardless of whether Agent Lisbon is here or not."

"Well, okay. I'll just- I'll go inside and see."

"I'll come with you," he said, climbing out of the car, "it is unusual for her to be back this early."

They walked up the driveway and started climbing the steps. Josephine picked up Lisbon's bag and followed behind the officer, suddenly uneasy. They reached the door and the officer knocked twice.

"Agent Lisbon, I-" the door swung open and the sight before them had Josephine letting out a small scream and the officer reaching for his radio.

"Go back to the car," he whispered, urgently, "lock the doors and don't open them to anyone."

She was faintly aware of the officer slipping inside the house, gun fixed ahead of him as he repeated the request for back up into his radio, but she found she couldn't move.

Blood.

Everywhere.

Strewn across the carpet, carded through the curtains; hurled over the picture frames and bookcases, smeared around the walls. It seemed almost black in the darkened room. Josephine suddenly found it difficult to swallow.

There was only one place which wasn't covered, a tiny square of yellow above the desk, directly opposite the door. The space was occupied by a blood smeared smiley face, eyes weeping into its curved grin.

The smell hit her as she backed away, rusty iron and mud. The thought of whose blood it was had her backing shakily down the steps and bending over to vomit, the force of it causing her to press her hands to the floor. She wiped her mouth and hurried over to the car, locking the doors and staring straight ahead as sirens came screeching to a halt beside her.

The images of what was inside came back to her, and she put her head in her hands and started to cry.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Do you remember me? It's been a long time, and again I am sorry. I'm actually residing in America at the moment and I watched the final episode of series 5 and thought, "I need to update and keep updating." Who do you think Red John is? I'll admit, my Red John isn't any of the ones on Jane's list in the show.

Again, I cannot apologise enough for not updating sooner. I won't make excuses, but I would never abandon a fic, and when I say that I've got this story planned out until the end, I do.


End file.
